


Castle on the hill

by featherdrop (raynie)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Conflict, F/F, Fluff, Imperial Princess!Reader, there are many others but they're not the main focus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynie/pseuds/featherdrop
Summary: "If I run, will you follow?"A story in which the reader would have done anything for her people until she met someone who was worth ditching the crown aside. One can run from their duties, but they will always find a way to come back.
Relationships: Aranea Highwind/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this is my first work on ao3, but I'm a sucker for princess!reader stuff and I've no shame bending canon to indulge myself.
> 
> I'm doing my best at not using Y/N since I think it kind of ruins the flow.  
> Also, the next chapters are going to be longer than this one ♥

Political games bore you even if you play them well enough to fool everyone you might share interest. Your back sits straight, hands carefully folded in front of you over the marble table, a long object stretching for meters around which sits so few people it makes the amount of chairs look ridiculous. Sitting on the far right of your father, the Emperor exchanges with the others to evaluate the situation and get the best understanding of what is going on far away from Niflheim. You listen attentively to the progression of their war plan built around the simple desire of power and glory, a goal most men around you seem obsessed with. The mention of the proposition that has been made and accepted picks up your attention. As established, the kingdom of Lucis bent to the request of marrying their Prince to the Oracle in order to settle for peace between the two kingdoms, not that it was a big profanity to their traditions. Such an irony crosses your mind as you are yourself betrothed to the Oracle’s brother, Prince Ravus. 

Ardyn speaks up and you stop paying complete attention, letting your eyes wander in the direction of your personal guard standing in front of you, back resting against the wall. If anyone in this room knew the truth of your relationship with her, they would have her kicked out of the Empire as a threat to order in their own ranks for her hands and mouth know every edges of your body. You both are wiser than letting yourselves get caught, Aranea being aware of the danger her feet are dancing in, but the price has always been worth coming back between your arms. ‘ _Slow dancing in a burning room_ ’, as you would often whisper to her with a grin. Her eyes avoid yours, set on the conversation unfolding even if she can feel your gaze admiring the curves of her armor in a sinful way. One blink and you’re back into the political game you abhor.

“Will I get to attend the wedding? It is my future sister-in-law that you are throwing to the wolves after all.”

Your question puts a silence over the discussion, both Iedolas and Ardyn looking up at you as most of other people you barely know the names avoid your direction completly. Apparently, they didn’t think about the possibility of you wanting to attend the ceremony, straining their so perfectly laid out plan.

“If you’re willing to gamble the Fleuret’s lives, why not mine?”

Aranea switches her weight from one foot to another, a silent plea for you to shut up, but you ignore her as you press on with a gaze toward your father. The Emperor stares at you, long and hard, before giving his final answer.

“No.”

You huff in annoyance, fingers curling at the handrails of one of the windows from your quarters. Aranea closes and locks the heavy doors after walking in, coming closer in order to stand by your side as her eyes set on the horizon ahead. From your room, you can see the mountains when the sky is clement, covered in snow as a reminder of just how cold your land is, but it never bothered you as this is all you know. 

“You really believed they would have let you go?”

“Not a second, but I did want to mess up with them,” you confess with a downcast smile.

It would have made sense for your people to watch you walk into the peace treaty that had been set and ultimately meet with your Lucian equal, but you know the intentions of your father are not as kind as to stop before getting his hands on the last city standing against him. The plan is soon to be unfolded, the neverending desire of expansion eating up the men controlling the place where you were born. Most of the things unraveling behind closed doors disgust you, but your words hold no power against the ones they utter over yours as they forget who you are like you are nothing more than some kind of trophy catching dust. 

Chasing away the gloom of the last reunion, you turn around to face Aranea before putting your arms around her neck and pulling her closer for a kiss. It’s quick, a peck over her lips as you stay close.

“Why don’t we run away?” You ask in a whisper, love warping your childish request.

Her hands easily find their place on your hips, gracing you first with a more languid exchange to brace you for the known answer. “They’d find us. Killing me without mercy and either doing the same to you or locking you up.”

“Like anyone could succeed in putting an end to your life, Aranea Highwind,” you offer with amusement, fingers finding the tip of her tied-up silver hair to play with. “You hate the ways of these men as much as me. Why stay and help them?”

“I’m staying for you,” comes her honest devotion as her thumb caresses the dip of your left hip over the white and red dress you’re wearing. “Don’t mix up where my loyalty stands.”

“I’m not, that’s why I’m asking you to run away with me.”

Aranea pulls away from you at your words, her eyes suddenly cold while judging the level of truth you’re mustering behind private doors. She would never put your life in danger, making you pick up a weapon to learn fighting skills as soon as you met five years ago in case something ever happened where you had to fend for yourself. You love her as much as your beaten heart can process, the electricity in your veins set ablaze anytime you feel her proximity. Aranea broke down your walls to the point you were willing to forget about them entirely to live fully with her, but she was the reasonable one of you two, reminding you of the reality whenever you started to get delusional. She wished for your safety first when you prayed for a chance to hold her close in daylight. 

“Don’t be foolish,” she murmurs while lifting up a hand to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. “No plan you make will ever work out.”

“Ouch.”

You smile in defeat, diving in for another taste of her lips, indulging your own desire as you press kisses down her cheek and jawline to reach for her neck. Aranea taste of promises and delight, the lingering aftertaste of the heart aching for more whenever your eyes land on her. Under the cover of the night, free of discernment, her fingers match perfectly between yours and her perfume clings to the satin of your bed where she is nowhere to be seen once the sun chases the moon away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief mention of blood & self-harm

Barely a few days later can you read the headline written across the screen of your phone while you sip your morning coffee, comfortably seated in front of your dressing table. Hair up in a messy bun, you relax in your silky red nightgown as you keep up with the medias. _Insomnia Falls._ You read the article diagonally without much surprise, only stating the obvious under your nose, but you frown at the mention of the Prince and the Oracle being declared dead. The text you received from Ravus barely an hour ago was clearly telling you his sister was safe, thus concluding it can only be a speck of propaganda from the Empire. Making the people of Lucis believe their last hope perished is indeed a great tool to make them bend to the will of your father. Putting your phone down, you sigh and take another sip at your hot beverage, the knock on your door playing in familiarity.

“Come in.”

Your forbidden lover enters your bedroom, fully dressed in her usual sexy armor and ready for the day way more than you are as you sit without a care at the clock on the wall.

“You have a meeting in twenty minutes, do I need to remind you?”

Another intake of coffee, you look at her over the rim of your cup, waiting for the door to fully settle in place and conceal your words into privacy.

“Have you thought about my proposition?” You question with honey in your voice, putting aside your coffee and stepping out of your chair to reach for your wardrobe. “With the commotion going on in Lucis, we wouldn’t have much trouble hiding out there. Many places inside its territory remain untouched from civilisation, we could build our own cottage and live happily ever after.”

You muse over your closeted wish, picturing the daily tasks you could handle together. Your imagination may be wild, but you can call yourself an idiot for believing Aranea would allow the stupidity of running away like imprudent teenagers. Fingers skim over the many dresses you own, all of them in the same red and white with a touch of gold theme as you can only dream of more colorful options - even if you get plenty in terms of design. You settle for an asymmetrical one, longer on the left side than the right with one long sleeve while it leaves your other shoulder bare, and you strip out of your night clothes in order to put on the chosen piece. 

“You’re foolish if you think any escape plan would work.”

“If I run, will you follow?”

She rolls her eyes, gesturing toward the chair you were previously in. “Sit, I’ll do your hair.”

You don’t have to push further for her answer is evident. ‘ _Yes_ _’_. Bluntly telling you so would make her instantly combust where she stands, but there’s no doubt her path will follow wherever you decide to lead yours and it reassures you. Her devotion toward you never fails at making your heart flutters, yet you would never be able to forgive yourself if your incautiousness harmed her in any kind of way. Aranea is always the first to push you to do what you want more than what you’re ordered to, definitely not one to fret over the subtle plays of hierarchy. If she cared, she would have accepted long ago the promotions she had been offered inside the army.

Aranea does quick work of your hair, arranging it in one of your favorite style with the light golden crown made specifically for you and you give her one last kiss for the day before leaving your quarters. She stays with you, walking in silence a few steps behind like any personal guard would until she reaches to open the door for you upon arriving at destination. You don’t even acknowledge it, not a single thank you parting your lips despite how wrong it feels every time you have to pull out the act of emotional distance, aware people of high ranks would question why you show kindness to the one simply fulfilling her duties. 

Only your father is now missing from the table as you sit in your usual chair, this time keeping your hands in your lap and avoiding anyone’s gaze like they are nothing but dirt scattered at your feet waiting to be dusted away. They are, in a way. Nothing more than a disease itching your skin you wish to withdraw from. No matter how much you try, you can't find yourself to find a single thing you like about Ardyn or Verstael, holding them both responsible for the goal your father has set his mind on. Not everyone deserves such hatred from you, but these two play a major part in your desire to depart from the Empire.

“Good morning, Majesty.”

You can discern the mockery under Ardyn’s honey voice trying to initiate small talk with you. This man always finds a way to step on every single nerves inside your body and you huff in annoyance, ignoring his attempt. You wait with sealed lips for your father to come in, barely noticing your own presence as he makes way for his seat among the other peers you don’t bother looking at.

“I see you’re already back, Ardyn.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have missed such a sight for nothing in this world.”

“What should we be discussing today?” You press on, not in the mood to listen to your father and the man you detest chatter any longer. The sooner you get into it, the sooner you can get back to your usual duties. 

The Emperor glances at you like you did an offense to the meeting, but you hold his stare as you were taught to if you one day wish to sit in his place when he passes away. The reason of you being here unfolds slowly, confirmation of the Prince being out in the wild with his royal retinue and the Oracle being very much alive too. There is no mention of your betrothing or anything concerning yourself and your people, the attention being so focused on Prince Noctis you are tempted to groan your personal disliking toward such obsession. The population is drowning you under questions about your marriage and you can only give them so much lies before they get impatient. Foreign affairs are not what the people of Gralea looks up to and it has been a while since actual good news not involving someone dying made the newspapers headlines. What’s the point of hawking at Prince Noctis? They already destroyed his home, took over his kingdom and secured the Crystal, what more do they want from the young man?

Eventually, the point redirects toward Verstael’s researches, much to your disgust as he presses on with his reports about daemonization of humans. Secret documents and photos are passed around, landing between your hands where they stay for a minute. Most of them are too graphic for exiting the classified files status, picturing perfectly the evolution from human to daemon in a cruel lack of decency. One serie of photographs exhibits a woman ripping off the scales scattered across her skin, the traces of her own blood smudged over the floor and her legs, nails clogged in red while pure agony can be read on her face by any sane person looking at these dreadful shots.

Hastily closing the folder with everything in, your aversion shows. You pity the unknown woman, not wanting to know the reason that brought her up to being locked up in a cell. Your father liked to tell you they were only experimenting on criminals, but you heavily doubted it. Surely, someone who had no problem in cloning himself to build up an army wouldn’t bother fiddling with morality. Head rolling to the side as your hands come up to press against the cold marble, you stand up and give the men - and two other women at the far end - a polite smile.

“I’m afraid I have to excuse myself as I have pressing matters to attend.”

Your father doesn’t care about your duties enough to truly know when you’re lying versus when you’re telling the truth, so he simply waves you off like an insect. The man who watched fondly over your first steps sure changed along the years and there’s not a single hint of regret when you picture your life without him.

Aranea follows your steps outside the room, the silence stretching as you walk away to seek out the peace of your own personal garden you requested when you were fourteen, the place decorated with flowers found across Eos and a few trees. Sitting down on the handmade bench laid in the middle where you often came to reflect, you take off the crown fitted in your hair, pulling out a few strands by accident. She keeps her distance by standing merely a few meters away from you, the basic formalities unwavering despite being alone, but not immune to wandering eyes that could ravage your last piece of pure happiness. The slouch in your shoulders screams your thought, your unshakable hatred for the unethical way of things crossing your path and your options at hands falling short. Even if your dad died tomorrow and you became in charge, you doubt they would accept the change of heart for their plans. You are certain the public would be behind you, but these men would have no remorses finding a way to erase you from history altogether in order to pursue their lifelong works.

“I’ve seen enough and nothing you say will make me stay,” rolls off your tongue, avoiding looking up straight at Aranea. 

“I know, but I hope you’re sure about this. There’s no coming back if you do.”

Gaze lingering over the purple flowers in front of you, you ponder a little bit more as you continuously balance the pros and cons of leaving your golden chair behind. When her armor rattles at the shift of her weight, you observe the woman as a way to read her own mind. Used to silent conversations, to decipher each other by simple looks and small gestures, it has been your way of communicating while in public for years now and you could understand the least visible motion. The hand placed on her hip breaks the stoic front a guard should keep, the gesture a quick reminder you have not to worry about her following your steps despite disliking your ambitious plan. You have to believe things will work out in your favor, that leaving everything behind won’t be in vain and you won’t meet an early death at the hand of the Empire. 

In the meantime, you still have plenty to do, not planning to leave your people behind in a rush like a reckless child. You draw a deep breath, closing your eyes a minute to ease your mind and keep your focus. One wrong step and you could end in hot water too soon.

  
  


Shopping in Gralea always had been one of your favorite activities since the options are almost limitless, a multitude of tall buildings and various shops that have so much to offer. Most places know you personally enough to not fret over the Emperor's daughter presence as you walk inside their shop in simple formal pant and shirt outfit. Aranea is tasked to follow you everywhere you go and she had to trade her armor for something lighter, helping her blend in to the uncaring eyes. You shop for utilities first - some basic food supplies and even a tent along with things Aranea deems obligatory - that you leave in the trunk of your car for now as you continue roaming the stores. For the people crossing path with you, you simply appear to be meticulously preparing for a camping trip - something you had never done before as you are forbidden to ever leave the perimeter of Gralea.

Picking up clothes for outdoor life appears more complex than you originally thought as Aranea keeps pointing out the flaws in the outfits you lay eyes on. With a sigh and a drop of your shoulders, your head luls to the side toward the silver-haired woman.

“Fine, help me out if you’re such an expert.”

It’s easy to make it look like you’re aiming for a little trip either by yourself or with your betrothed and handing the trustworthy role of preparing you correctly to someone with field skills. No one would suspect the real meaning behind your behavior, certainly not the man behind the register who seems engrossed in Aranea’s boobs more than anything else in the shop.

“You don’t want to be sexy, you want to be comfortable.”

Raising an eyebrow at her, you are quick to be reminded of her own choice of armor that seems to be the total opposite of this one specfic advice and she picks up the thought brushing your mind with a grin. For you, she picks up different attire, shooing you off to try them on while she stands guard next to your cabin. It’s far from what you’re used to wear even when dressed up casually, the jean and t-shirt with a printed text at the front not what you would have went for. Putting your trust in Aranea’s better judgement even if you find the joke written on the shirt being of poor taste, the clothes fit your frame so you fold them in a pile. Trying out the others, some are set in the ‘no’ corner while you get a fair share of ‘yes’. Saying goodbye to your royal clothings will be difficult, but it’s not even a matter to be considered a price to pay in order to give Aranea what she deserves. No woman should live in the shadow of someone else, no matter the circumstances. 

Stepping back into your outfit, you take the pile you picked with you to pay for your articles. Sweeping your card brings you satisfaction for a mere second, enjoying it while it last as it might be one of the last occasion you can do such a thing. Being under no rush to go back home, you put your new purchases in the car before giving Aranea a mischievous glance.

“Care for a pastry?”

“You’re the one driving.”

A statement implying you’re holding the power of your next step and you grace a smile at your lover. It’s a short ride, few streets away from where you are and the time of the day is odd enough to avoid traffic in general. The café you love going to seems almost empty of any clients, except two couples sat far apart from each other and you pick up your usual table in a corner. You are tempted to reach across the table to hold Aranea's hand, but forbid yourself the act knowing you will soon be able to hold her as your heart wishes and whenever you want. The simple thought thrills you enough to get startled the café's owner reaches for where you sit.

“Princess! What brings you here on this fine day?”

Once the surprise passes and Aranea finds amusement in your reaction, the amiable voice plasters another smile upon your face as the familiarity of it warming the edges of your internal worries about leaving your people behind. You have been coming here for longer than one would have expected the café to last, either with friends you were allowed to have in school, Ravus, or even Luna a few times. Aranea had been a rather recent addition that the old man apparently took liking in her sharp honesty. You share good memories with the place, even being present on the opening day that occured while you were too young to fully grasp the importance of presence among your citizens. 

“Shopping, what else could it be?”

“I’m hurt to hear you didn’t miss me,” he jokes easily around you, formalities of being overly polite lost early in your friendship with the father of one of the man from the Niflheim army. You’ve seen his son, Loqi, on a couple of occasions, but not enough to properly keep the young man in your memory. 

“I did, but I miss your food even more.”

He laughs, eventually asking if you’re up to the usual and leaves after taking Aranea’s order of a simple black tea. Her face is analyzing you, reading your mind as easily as a book laid open on the table and you let her, turning your head to look outside of the high windows going from floor to ceiling. There’s no lies or mistakes when mentioning you do love Gralea and the rest of Niflheim, that the people living on your lands have a special place in your heart, but everyday plunges you deeper in the sentiment of failure as you can’t seem to find a way to pull out innocents from their miseries. If your father cared as much about his people than he cares for invading other kingdoms, maybe things would be better. The looming presence of Zegnautus Keep over the city could do much better accomplishment if used for good instead. Unfortunately, power is rarely placed between those of the right ones. 

  
  


Everything you purchased is set into two backpacks, the tight bag of the tent strapped under Aranea's as she has no problem reminding you of your shrimp's strength - it's not that bad, but you don't argue with her. Once both packs are ready and neatly stuffed with clothes and necessities, you hide them under your bed just in time to hear a loud knocking on your door. Since you’re not expecting anyone, you frown and turn to Aranea who lifts a hand at you, implying to stay where you are before she reaches for the door. A small gap is cracked, the slightest drop in her shoulders noticeable and she opens it fully to trade her place in the room with Ravus. She knows she is not to be allowed in your quarters when your betrothed is around, a rule made by people that are neither you nor him. 

Which is weird because you didn't have the memo he would be around, blinking at your betrothed with many questions. You have known him all your life, holding the manclose inside your heart in a way that is nowhere near romantic. Even if you tried to force yourself into developing feelings for the man, your love already latched on someone else. Almost the same goes for him, the line set years ago when you both confessed only liking each other as friends, but fake acts are still standing in public since it is the way arranged marriages work and you know better than defy traditions so openly.

Also, it’s hard to miss the obvious point standing in your room, an important body part lacking from his form.

"Why are you here, I thought you were with Luna? And where the fuck is your arm?"

"I had to comeback for an important meeting, but I wanted to stop by at the same time."

Your frown deepens. Ravus is not the type to make unnecessary stops and do small talk, not even with you, avoiding the most important inquiry. Last time you saw him, he was complete and no one just loses a limb while taking a walk in the park. Perhaps he's a man of actions rather than sitting down and waiting for things to happen, but you enjoy keeping your friends in one piece. Getting closer to him, you inspect his composure for a better reading of his body language, feeling the hair at the back of your neck stands in terrible anticipation as you can almost grasp the tension surrounding you.

"I want you to get away from here," he drops in a tone so straightforward you are left in even more confusion about what is actually going on.

"What? Why?" 

You can't blurt out yet that this is exactly what you had planned long before he walked in. Knowing Ravus for so long, you would put your life in his hands without fear, trusting his inability to betray your friendship, but you keep some walls up in order to protect the woman you love.

"There has been reports of daemons breaking out from the facility and Verstael doesn't seem to care that much about them spreading in the streets. Ultimately, I think this must be his goal."

Oh, the man you hate for his experiments has lost his mind long before your existence. His pursuit of power convinced your father, engrossing both men to a desire for _more_ constantly growing and fed by the suave talking of Ardyn. The possibility of them wanting to weaponize their own citizens to the point of turning them all into daemons doesn’t surprise you.

"I'm leaving for Altissia tomorrow morning. I could drop you off wherever you wish," he reads your expression with ease, by no mean a blind mind to the liking of your heart. It hasn’t been a secret, but you two never talked about it more than necessary. Apart from each other, you both had your own life until you were supposed to join path. "Aranea can come with you. I'm set to depart with a magitek troop so they will be asleep for most of the trip. Once I'm done there, I don't have the intention of coming back to a place where they treat my sister like currency."

This could ease your running away, but you can't make the final decision by yourself and you raise a finger at him before reaching out for the door. You gesture Aranea to come in, holding the door open while she eyes both ways of the empty hallway before obeying. She stands straight, gaze flicking from you to Ravus with a polite bow of her head. Formalities fly far over your head as you look up to your betrothed, gesturing in Aranea's direction.

"It’s her you have to persuade as I will not go where she won't."

Trusting Ravus comes easy to your mind as you do share history with the man, but she doesn't. For Aranea, he is nothing else than a coworker and a superior who is set to put a ring around the finger she cherishes. If he can’t bend her will to put her trust in him, you won’t either and settle for the plan you had previously prepared even if logic screams at you to accept the least troublesome option. They talk back and forth, Aranea searching a way to corner the man and pull out the hint of his invitation being a trap, but she can’t find anything and finally accept, setting the deal to get new phones in order to avoid the Empire being able to track you back so effortlessly while you stay in contact.

Ravus bids you farewell until the morning, retreating to his own quarter inside the castle and, once the door closes behind him, you beam at Aranea with how much excitement pulses under your skin. It might be easier than you previously thought, but she doesn’t mirror the act as you feel her thought thousand miles away from your bedroom. 

In the end, Ravus didn’t even tell you how he got stripped off from one arm, but you know better than push at the wrong time.


	3. Chapter 3

A magitek prosthetic replaces his arm when you meet him in the morning, the sun shying to show up completely. Your nose scrunches up, the vision enough to build a fire inside your belly, utter animosity swirling your guts while aware of who is behind such an object. It is not yours to bear, yet your skin crawls at the thought, letting your eyes skim over the patterns that have nothing to do with Niflheim - at least. 

Without much interaction, you are given uniforms to switch into and blend around the other human workers. Infiltrating the Imperial airship is rather simple, disguised to help fill the transport with weapons and other supplies as no one seems to pay much attention to their surroundings. After all, people working for your father are tasked to not listen or watch, to keep their lips shut and eyes forward to their task. If you didn’t know better, they would almost appear as lifeless than the magitek soldiers. A pity, the sole action of being unable to enjoy one’s simple reason to gain a paycheck. It shouldn’t be that way, but it has been for so long no one dares question the ways of the Emperor. 

Dropping your last box at the right place, you then hide as Ravus’ plan instructs. Nervosity settles in your guts, your hand fidgeting in the dark until it clasps around Aranea’s fingers and she allows you. Despite her strong persona, you know the fragility hidden within her, the apprehension of what will come next as you are about to step into a life you personally know nothing about. No regret lingers while your mind tears away the thought of tomorrow inside these walls, but the amount of fear clogs your throat.

Since the day you were born, you have been preserved in such a way it strikes you as the image of a princess locked up in her tower, watched over by her faithful dragon. Freedom inside a cage, not allowed to stray too far. You now wonder if the reason for your protection may have been less inclined toward your father loving you through it all and if you weren’t just meant to be part of Verstael's research. Had they ever contemplate infecting Aranea since her strength would produce quite a strong weapon? In a couple of hours, all of this will be behind you - you hope. 

Without lights or windows, time goes by while you can't count how long it has been before the smooth flying of the airship comes to a halt. Silence broken by the hum of the engines, the main door opens, unfolding the ramp toward the ground. Ravus comes around, gesturing you out of hiding and Aranea is quick to make sure to stay a couple of steps ahead of you just in case something was to jump out and attack. 

“This is Cape Shawe. It’s mostly untouched by men, but there’s an abandoned lighthouse where you can stay. The light still works so you can use it to fend off the daemons at night. It might attract people’s attention, but if you are asked just say you are survivors from Insomnia. I’ll come back as soon as I can to discuss the next steps.”

Aranea nods, walking past him while locking her backpack securely in place. You slip yours over your back, stopping by your betrothed and pull him into a hug. After all, he’s your friend and you owe him the chance to flee from the nightmare you learned to hate so deeply you couldn’t conceptualize the possibility of you turning no better than these men you despised. 

“Thank you. I’ll keep you updated.”

He nods as you free him from your embrace and step up to follow Aranea’s path. It’s a short jump to the ground, but you make it easily. Fingers curling around the straps of your backpack, you watch as the airship departs, weirdness settling in your chest. A weight is lifted from your mind, but a new one is added. Trepidation washes over your frame, freezing you in place as the thought you may have doomed a whole population drenches your thought. If only you stayed a bit longer, maybe Niflheim could have been saved from its greed. 

Were you raised to believe your freedom was a crime? 

Since you’re not following her, Aranea backtracks. There’s distress in your eyes, calling for her upon locking gaze with the woman and she cradles your face between her fingers, tilting your head up.

“Your life is yours to live. You decided to run away, be proud of the decisions you make.”

Her tone is set to ground you in reality, to prevent stress from bringing you to your knees. Your hands cup Aranea’s jaw, looking only at her as your main focus. Her own strength inspires you, motivating your own to stand behind your actions as you slowly calm yourself, brushing away the useless worries.

When she deems you back mentally, her touch disappears from your skin and you inhale sharply. It will be alright. Everywhere is better than staying where you are doomed to repeat history.

Your eyes spot the lighthouse Ravus mentioned over her shoulder, standing tall while perched far up a hill. You have been dropped into a small valley where prying eyes wouldn’t be able to spot its intrusion - not that it matters since this land is technically yours. 

No more words are needed, your lover leading the way and you follow as your heart goes into a new frenzy inside your chest. You had never been out in the wild while you know Aranea had, so many times, for she used to live off hunts before your father hired her. She has skills you will never obtain despite how much effort you put into it, but for now you don’t fret over it. Absorbed in taking the sight in, Lucis strikes you in differences as it contrasts violently with the snow and desert you are used to gaze over from your quarters. The grass is plentiful, stretching for miles and the ocean to your right seems so close you wonder how it smells when next to it.

Your train of thoughts is halted when more Imperial airships catch your attention, tiny dots you would recognize anywhere strutting their way over the ocean in the far distance with no doubt according to their destination. What you thought was supposed to be a trip to join the Oracle appears to be a more dangerous play you hadn’t been informed on before leaving for good. Your steps falter, coming to an end as you stare at the sky. Ahead, Aranea turns around when she lacks the impression you’re right behind her once more.

“It doesn’t concern you anymore,” she states, reminding you that you ran away from your duties merely hours ago and that it’s possible no one has noticed your absence yet.

“You’re right, but innocent people are going to suffer in vain. Again.” A long sigh escapes your lips, shaking your head disapprovingly. This time, you’re calmer. “Wish I could have done more.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. Now, let’s go. I don’t want to camp here when night comes.”

In order to coax you back into reaching for your goal, she stretches a hand in your direction and you are quick to grab it with a smile breaking out. You know she is right and beating yourself over your inability to act against your peers serves no purpose other than agonizing yourself. There’s nothing you can do, bound to survive for now until Ravus comes back and you can decide what to do next. Somehow, you feel like stopping Niflheim and giving back the Crystal to Lucis would be the right thing to do, but your heroic heart knows to not aim for the stars and prefers smaller ambitions. You have seen the bad side of human’s eagerness.

“Can you cook?” Aranea asks you out of the blue and you blink at her.

“Simple things, yeah. Why?”

“Because I hunt, but I’m absolutely terrible at cooking. It always tastes bad,” she cracks a smile, finally letting go the tension in her shoulders. You love her even more when the walls crumble just enough to let herself shine brighter.

“Am I hearing this right? My Lady is not perfect in every way?” The title used brings a spark to her eyes and you press yourself into her side, placing a kiss across her cheek. “Guess I will have to step up my cooking skills just for you, though. Unless you are really into soups every day.”

It will be different than living in the castle for sure, but you have little doubts you can’t make it work out. Nothing can be worse than staying in Gralea or for the people to survive through war with nowhere to go back and call home. 

You stop multiple times on the way up, fascinated by everything surrounding you - even a small green frog that made Aranea joke you should try to kiss it like in fairy tales. Another stop, you pick up a purple flower from the ground and offer it to her before play-fighting Aranea in order to tuck it in her hair. At first, she’s eagerly against the idea of some color coming up in contrast with her locks, but she eventually yields to let you add it into her silver strands and the bounce in your steps when you resume walking is more than enough to convince her the capitulation was worth it. 

You feel more alive than you ever did, the wind picking up to mess up your own hair and you can’t find a single care to give, the sun warming your skin disparate from all the times you had let it shine without noticing its presence. Real freedom makes you experience things in a whole new way. Unable to stop smiling, you look at Aranea with profond fondness. Without her, never would you have been able to build up the courage to run away from the cage they locked you in.

Your hand is on the door of the lighthouse as soon as you reach it, but Aranea pushes you to the side as she takes the first glance inside. Protecting you is not her duty anymore, she does it out of care - like she probably always did in the last years. It appears empty, only dusty, as you follow her in the lighthouse. She flicks the switch, the lights coming to life after a few attempts and you can hear the low buzzing of it. It’s dirty, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. A sneeze breaks out, startling Aranea who gives you a playful smack over your arm as punishment. 

The place is neither small nor big. To your liking, it’s perfect. On the first floor, you find a kitchen with basic appliances and a cramped living room next to a bathroom. Taking the stairs up leads you to a bedroom adjacent to the room used to control the beacon. Everything is lined under a rather thick layer of gray, swiping your index across one of the furniture and you wince. It won’t kill you, but you never had to be in charge of cleaning. Somehow, the perspective excites you.

“I hate to say this, but : think you can handle staying here alone for a while as I go check if I can find something better to eat than canned food? I’d rather keep them as a last resort.”

As she places her bag on the floor of the bedroom, her lance comes free from the place it was strapped and she hands you the short sword brought for you. You take it, aware you will have to work out some fashion sense to keep it around all the time now.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll lock the door behind you,” there’s amusement behind your words, not in the least surprised she has no interest in sticking around when she could be most useful doing what she does best.

You follow her downstairs, a last peck gracing your lips and she offers you a smile as she reaches for the door. 

“Don’t talk to strangers,” is her last words before stepping outside in the middle of the day.

Doing as you said, you lock it and then turn toward the whole place that is now yours to make comfortable. Silence engulfs you, its weight heavy on your shoulders as you don’t know where and how to start. First thing, you inspect the place more thoroughly and find a closet. As you reach for the broom inside, a spider jumps out from hiding and you scream by reflex, frantic movements getting the better of you. It falls to the floor and you are quick to stomp it, shortening its days to a painless death. Your heart beats a fast pace, the adrenaline pumping over nothing as the threat has already been eliminated and you break down in laughter. This is going to be fun.

Aranea brought fishes that she caught with her spear - an impressive act, you must admit - and you cooked it. Rudimentary meal for your first night, you wait for your phone to come to life as you had already texted Ravus hours ago to let him know you were doing alright. It stresses you, even if you are certain he must be busy with matters at hands. In no time, you will see him again, probably accompanied by his sister you haven’t met in a long time. 

“You have to let go of things you can’t control,” Aranea scolds you, staring in your direction as she sits to your right. 

“I feel bad,” a huff comes to life as you let your head rest in the palm of your hand with your elbow propped over the table. “When problems started to show up, I just ran away. What kind of Empress would have I made?”

“I don’t believe you would have waged war against Lucis, for one. Knowing you, if you had been in your father’s place, you would have told Verstael and Ardyn to go fuck themselves before agreeing to any of their bullshit.”

You want to believe she’s right, but what if you were no better than these men that could have found a way to influence you? It’s behind you and you shouldn’t stir awake your inner demons, but you can’t help it. There’s a pull inside your chest, whispering you have let your people down. Running away to your selfish desire might not have been the best move, but it felt right to you when you made up your mind about your future. 

Finally, your phone vibrates as you see the new notification. Quickly reading it, you feel a bit better knowing at least Ravus and Luna are fine. _For now_ , you think bitterly. You can only guess what the Empire wants with sending so many fleets to Altissia. After the good news, you are quick to clean up the dishes with Aranea’s help before calling it a day.

It’s your first night outside the castle and you can’t find any bit of rest. Aranea is sound asleep in the makeshift bed from your camping gear as you didn’t trust the one sitting in the room until you find a way to clean it thoroughly. From outside, you can hear noises that previously only lingered in your nightmares or inside the research facility you visited a couple of times. Zegnautus Keep has never been one of your favorite places to walk in even if you would have enjoyed the pleasure of burying your nose in better kinds of research, it only drilled horrendous images inside your brain. 

Getting out of bed, you tiptoe your way toward the window allowing you to see the ocean. The moon reflects its light over it, the waves barely noticeable and you see the life brought from the darkness down the hill the lighthouse has been built on. The beacon is not yet turned on as you didn’t find the way to put it back to work, but the structure itself was deemed safe by Aranea - and you let the lights on in the kitchen and living room, just to ease yourself. 

Goblins wander away, too far to present any danger, but you would recognize them from anywhere. You’ve seen some from up close, locked up behind bars where once stood humans. The thought makes you shiver, shaking your head to chase the images away. Horrible things happened, and still do, behind the walls of the facility. None of which you agreed on.

Unable to find rest, you go down to the first floor where you resume the cleaning started earlier, picking up at the dirt with a cloth you tore from your own clothes and eventually sweep the floor until the sun rises for another day. The sound of daemons outside fades away, indicating it is now safe to go out and you risk it. Trading your broom for your sword, you walk out in daylight and analyze which way to go. Deeming the ocean a good start, you spot bushes and trees between you and your destination, letting you nourish hope to find some fruits for breakfast. 

Light steps bring you to the trees, scanning their foliage and you yelp at the sight of apples. Luck shines on you, you just have to figure out a way to reach for them. Perhaps you could use your sword to make them fall, but your arm falls short even with the added height. You huff with annoyance, the silence around you breaking over a whimper - or something similar you are not familiar with. Frowning, you weigh the option of running back to Aranea, but decide against it as you do not wish to prevent her from well-deserved sleep. Sword tightly held in one hand, you search for the source of the noise, carefully moving away branches from bushes to discover a yellow blob of feathers you have only seen in books. 

In one swift movement, you plant your sword in the ground and reach for the animal, trying to not scare it as you guess it’s probably hurt if it’s hiding. It doesn’t even try to move away from you as you kneel next to it, instinctively letting your hands run along the feathers before reaching for the stretched out leg bent in an unnatural way.

“Oh my, poor thing. What happened to you?”

You don’t expect an answer, but it makes a soft ‘ _kweeh_ ’ sound at you.

“It’s okay, buddy. I got you, you’ll be alright.”

Even if you have no idea how to take care of a chocobo, let alone how to heal one that has been hurt, you are set to help it with no hesitation. Can you even achieve such a thing? You’ve heard of some cases where animals were redeemed useless once injured, but you don’t let it sit within you for too long as you fumble for something that could help you bring it up the hill back to the lighthouse. Nowhere strong enough to pick up the large beast in your arms, the idea is scrapped off right away. 

“Nea!” You yell out for her, hoping she is awake - probably not - and would hear you, not wanting to leave the animal side in fear a predator might be around waiting for the opportunity to pounce the easy prey. 

Obviously, your lover is still asleep - otherwise she would have been out in the blink of an eye. 

Your fingers graze over the injury and the chocobo tries to scoot away from you, but barely succeed. You shush it like a child, standing up to get strong looking branches laying at the feet of the nearest trees and bring them next to the animal. Grabbing the hem of your shirt, you tear a strap out of it with the help of your sword, going back to your task as you try to gain the trust of the bird in order to orient the limb correctly. It squeaks, obviously pained, but lets you work with little fussing.

By the time Aranea comes to you, you have succeeded in fastening the tissue with the branches around the bird’s leg and she gives you a weird look.

“When I saw you weren’t at the lighthouse I imagined many scenarios, but not this one.”

“Do you think you could help me bring it back?” You ask, gazing up to her with a pleading look.

“Let’s kill it. We’ll have meat for a week.”

“What? You can’t be serious,” you stand up in order to shield the chocobo from any more harm. “We’re not eating it. Once back on its feet, we can use it for transport. The nearest outpost is apparently miles away and it would be easier with a ride.”

Aranea smirks, picking up your sword from the ground and giving it to you. “Planning ahead, are you? Fine. We’ll do as you say, but if it doesn’t heal back properly I’m eating it.”

The chocobo must be accustomed to humans as it doesn't appear distraught by your attempt at taking care of it, even helping support itself the best it can as you and Aranea lead the injured animal up to the lighthouse. There is a little stowage at the back, large enough to house the bird at the end of the perilous walk. It takes over an hour to settle down the chocobo as you keep going back and forth down the hill to pick up branches with leaves to build a cot from where it now rests, content, kweehing at you with glee as you finally come to pet its head.

"Good bird. Now, what are we supposed to feed you?"

Turning your head toward Aranea, she raises an eyebrow at you.

"You think I know? I haven't eaten yet either," the news comes back as a reminder of your initial goal and you give her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that. Kind of got sidetracked in my quest."

"And thanks to Ravus and the map he gave me, he did drop us off fucking far from any form of civilization. We can cross off eating at a restaurant anytime soon. The closest outpost is almost a whole day back and forth, I'll see what I can get from there tomorrow."

You ponder over her words for a few seconds, nodding as a final answer. In the meantime, you will have to find another way to care for your feathered friend.  
  


Aranea found gysahl greens and vegetable seeds, you named the chocobo Buddy as he seemed to react to the name and he watched over you as you learned how to make a garden with your bare hands while Aranea stuck to hunting. It's been three full days since you last heard from Ravus, your numerous messages left unanswered to the point you can barely sleep at night. The lack of proper rest is pulling at the bags under your eyes, exhaustion rendering you sluggish as you hoe another brand new row to your garden.

Taking a break, you lift an arm to your forehead and sweep the sweat off. Aranea should be back any moment by now, the end of the day on its last stretch as the warm sun descends on the horizon. You abandon your tool, giving your chocobo a proper visit as he kweehs at your presence. To your pleasure, the basket where you had laid his greens is empty and you fill it back up for the night, changing Buddy's water at the same time. As you busy yourself, you hear Aranea calling for you and, with one pet at the bird, you find her around the lighthouse.

You smile, but she doesn't as she hands you a newspaper. Her lack of words picks at your curiosity, stealing it up from her grip, its pages open on a specific article. The title makes your eyes widen.

_The Imperial Princess and The Oracle Perish._

Yet, here you stand, very much alive and breathing. You read the article in a hurry, stumbling over the statement of how you apparently died due to the wrath of the Leviathan as you were visiting your future sister-in-law, who somehow survived the events of Insomnia only to meet her demise in Altissia. The wording is evident in its goal to make the population grow spiteful to the Goddess and judge the faith she had given you and Lunafreya.

"Congrats. You are now part of the propaganda your father is setting up," Aranea spits hatefully at the Emperor.

"This is not the work of my father," you come up to his defence despite the disliking you grew to harbor for the man.

"I don't care if it's him kissing Ardyn's ass or the other way around, but he's still the Emperor. I thought he would at least send one aircraft to search for you."

On the other hand, you are not surprised they didn't bother with a rescue party. These people are more focussed over their pursuit of questionable ethics than the need of an heir to your father. You were once more important to Iedolas than any sheet of paper, but as the years passed the man grew out of his adoration for you, merely putting it into something else.

"Well, now we don't have to worry about magitek troopers being dropped on our head," you joke dryly, tossing the newspaper into the rack of things meant to be thrown into the fireplace when you step inside the lighthouse.

"Shame. I wanted to kick their asses."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get the chance one day."

Busying yourself around the kitchen as she unpacks her stuff, you check your phone again, only to find it void of any notifications. You sigh, worry denching you all over again. Aranea senses it, her gaze catching up your frame with a raise of an eyebrow. Seeing your phone in your hand being put down without a word about it flats out the obvious.

"Judging by the pics I saw of Altissia, we have to assume he's probably dead," she speaks softly, trying her best at juggling the line between honesty and comfort. As much as she hates hurting you, current affairs unfolding can't be ignored.

"That's what I'm afraid of, but if they didn't say he's dead…" you trail off for a moment, pursing your lips. "I hope nothing bad happened to him."

She won't help you bear false hopes, thus she keeps silent while offering assistance in tonight's cooking.  
  


The days shorten. Every week, the sun sets a little bit too early and the night stretches for just too long. You find it easier to sleep with them spreading out, but your nightmares pull you out of your rest more often than one would deem normal. Days are not as bad as you would have expected, cut off from the world where you peacefully fulfill your dreams built when you first met Aranea. Her look changed, a subtle switch of her hair in a simple ponytail and her heavy armor being replaced by leather pants and a jacket most of the time. She said it helps avoid weird questions when meeting Lucians.

Buddy is back on its feet, vigorous, and you take him out daily on short rides to coax him back into the field. He's eager to help around the garden, dragging tools with his beak as he watches over you like an overgrown chicken. You absolutely love him, easing the loneliness you harbor when left by yourself at the lighthouse.

You did eventually manage to make the beacon work, setting it up every night as you noticed it helps Buddy relax. All in all, things turned out rather harmonious, even if Ravus never answered back any of your messages and it nags at the back of your mind. Should you try to resolve this mystery or honor the chance he gave you?

Seeing you have stopped working, Buddy pinches you and you yelp.

"Bad bird!"

You swat the chocobo playfully with the back of your hand, not really wanting to hurt it as you chuckle lightly when it kweehs back.

"Am I not allowed to think?"

His feathers ruffle a bit and you place his big head between your hands in order to lock eyes with the animal, finally shaking it gently as punishment for pinching you. As he seems inclined to play after being bedridden for so long, you indulge the beast, running away around the lighthouse in a false pursuit. There's no doubt he's letting you win, pacing slowly behind you for a minute or two, just enough time for you to notice Aranea standing in front of the door, hands behind her back. Coming to a halt, Buddy stops too and you cock your head to the side with curiosity.

"What's wrong?"

Getting closer, you see her cheeks dusted by the lightest hint of red, a sight rarely seen even behind closed doors and your interest in what she is hiding spikes up. She waits for you to be in arm’s length before pulling her hands from her back, revealing the bouquet of purple and blue flowers. 

The thing is, Aranea doesn't like girly stuff. She gets uncomfortable when being treated like a delicate lady and stumbles over her words when you get into overly romantic antics. Simple things get her heart better than any fancy act and flowers are not something she does. On a daily basis, she shows her love with a hand pressed against your lower back while watching over your shoulder what you're doing, she expresses her affection with honest words and by making sure you feel safe and happy. Gathering flowers into a bouquet to offer you short-circuit your brain as you would have never expected it.

"I know you really loved your flower garden and I never offered you any, so…" she trails, the slight shift of her weight from one foot to the other in an obvious display of her embarrassment.

A sound breaks through your lips, a mixt between joy and surprise, grabbing the bouquet with two hands. You fear your smile may rip the corners of your mouth, the low buzz inside your chest numbing everything else around you. Freeing an arm, you throw it around her neck to pull her closer into a kiss. The tension in her shoulders breaks immediately, melting away as her hands reach to circle your face and she deepens the exchange with a caress of her tongue over your lips.

Your hand falls to her hip, but she backs away all of a sudden and you give her a confused expression. Plunged into the shadows, you pick up the low humming of an aircraft creeping up over the lighthouse and you turn just in time to watch it land on the patch of grass leading to your home.


	4. Chapter 4

Joy sparks inside your heart, sweet jubilation at the familiar sight of an Imperial aircraft as your mind can only think Ravus found his way back to you after weeks of complete silence via your messages. You’re ready to run toward it, but Aranea grabs your wrist as a reminder to stay on your guard as she probably doesn’t share your optimism. To your left, your chocobo enters a frenzy, ruffling its feather and clapping its beak repetitively to the point of killing every bit of faith you had. You try to calm him down with a quick hush, but the animal stands his ground, merely a few steps ahead of you with his body puffed out in a threatened stance.

As the large door to the aircraft unfolds, your fingers squeeze around Aranea’s and the other holds the bouquet close to your chest. Your blood turns, boiling inside your veins as the man you would recognize among thousand walks out and your jaws clench.

“Ardyn.”

The pure hostility of your voice is drowned by the distance and the sounds of the engines, the Chancellor strolls his way closer as if you invited him over for tea. 

“Good evening, ladies.”

Buddy kweehs at him angrily when judging the man has broken enough gap and Ardyn stretches his luck while aiming to touch your bird in what you assume would have been a gentle pet.

“Touch him and I’ll cut off your hand.”

Ardyn stops in his tracks, moving his hand away with a polite bow of his head and a smile on his lips. Your hand lost the grip of Aranea’s, seeing from the corner of your vision she retrieved her spear, a clear intention she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

“By no means am I here to fight, Lady Aranea,” his honey coated voice announces. “I’m afraid I only came to deliver bad news, but also a gift as I am not one to address unpleasant matters with empty hands.”

Under the many layers of clothes he’s wearing, Ardyn pulls out a folder filled with papers. Since your chocobo won’t let him take a step further, he lifts it up in your direction and you eye him for a while before allowing your feet to bring you next to your bird. The folder falling quickly in your possession, you immediately retreat next to Aranea, not even giving a glance at what you’re holding.

“What’s the bad news?”

“Always so straightforward. You would make a powerful Empress now that the throne is empty,” he unveils slowly, each word pulled out of his mouth like a painful melody you wish to end abruptly. “Unfortunately, Prince Noctis robbed you of your father and betrothed by ending their lives.”

Ardyn is a lot of things, many flaws meticulously covered by his ability to sweet-talk and manipulate people, but he’s not an empty liar. At best, he sugarcoats reality, tries to bend it his way, but he would gain no direct profit from the reveal of these two deaths - or you assume. You don’t care about your father as much as Ravus, the possibility had already been dealt with after so long gone without hearing from him, but you hoped to be wrong. 

“Your people need you more than ever, Princess.”

“Shut up,” you spit out, only amusing him further as he barely raises an eyebrow at your aggressivity.

“You are confusing me for the enemy when we have always been fighting on the same side.”

In no forms or shapes could you ever trust this man enough to follow him back to the place awaiting you. With your father dead, you are technically the next candidate in line to rule over the nation he created by invading. Staring at him, you realise he’s forcing you to consider it while you imagine yourself back in your dresses since your voice may now hold all the power needed to set things right. It’s tempting, but you shake your head to pull you out from contemplating the option.

“I’ll never work with you.”

“As you wish, but if you ever come to a change of heart, feel free to meet me at the Citadel in Insomnia where the conquered throne awaits.”

It can wait for its real owner as you will not sit in the place of someone else. If you ever regain control of any kingdom, it would be yours and only. Niflheim got greedy, saturating every part of Eos with its presence, spreading like a parasite latching at every soul crossing its way. 

With nothing else to be added, Ardyn turns around and retreats to the aircraft. It feels like forever, waiting for the metal door to close and to leave. It departs, the terrible aftertaste of the meeting lingering on your tongue and your chocobo goes back to his usual self while Aranea presses a hand over your arm. Standing there with your flowers and folder, you’re suddenly overwhelmed by everything.

Ravus’ death confirmation digs a hole in your chest, wondering how and mostly why the Lucian Prince killed him. The news brought answers, but made place for more interrogations, sorrow hooking at your senses as you can't bring yourself to make peace with it. You know there was little to no chance of him being out there after so long without reaching out, yet it hurts. There’s even a pang of guilt toward your father, the good memories overthrowing the recent years as your mind latches on the sweet ones.

Your strength falters and, before you can fall to your knees, Aranea drops her lance to catch you. You don’t think she once saw you shed a tear, but today is the day you break. Finding purchase in her arms while hugging her tightly and crumpling both your flowers and the papers, you let yourself cry on her shoulder.

Red lines stretch around your irises, eyes puffy, and you sniffle from time to time, but other than that the lighthouse is as quiet as it can be with all the buzzing sounds emitted by the lights. Staring at the carefully placed folder on the table, Aranea gave up long ago the game of patience and took it upon herself to clean the dishes that she dirtied in order to cook. Tonight, you weren’t in the mood for flipping any piece of meat or vegetables and you ate what she gave you without registering what it really was. Your mind is pacing, going all sorts of places about what could be inside this ordinary looking folder. It’s rather well filled, layered with papers and what you guess a little pile of photographs while you doubt Ardyn would have made all this way just to give you something stupid about Verstael’s disgusting works. Or maybe you’re wrong and he found the hassle of delivering you something so cruel delightful. Maybe what it contains will make the scale tips over, one way or another. You don’t know and you won’t until you read what is inside.

Next to the sink, Aranea dries her hands on a towel before making her way to you, standing behind your chair and pressing her palms against your shoulders. She massages them a bit, bending down to kiss the top of your head in a vain attempt at lifting your spirits. Inspirational speeches are not her thing either, more used to go straight to the point. If she were sitting in your place, she would have already gone through the folder, but you are the one tasked with digging in it and you don’t share her boldness when it comes to yourself.

“There’s no one forcing you to read this shit,” reminds your lover softly, despising your inner turmoil.

“I know. It could be so many things.”

“It’s Ardyn. This is heavily related to you, one way or another.”

You hum, aware of the ways the man uses to bend people at his desires. Whatever is inside this folder will change your perspective over something deemed important to you and you have to decide whether you wish to know or forever remain blind.

Aranea bends down further, this time pressing her lips over your cheek. “I’ll be in bed if you need me. Please, don’t stay up all night.”

There’s a chance you do if you find the strength to read the content of these white sheets and she knows it, aware she can’t force you into making up your mind within the next ten seconds. Respecting your pace, the silver-haired woman leaves you alone in the kitchen, making her way upstairs where you can hear her move around for a bit before settling down to sleep. It’s quiet, too much for your liking, already accustomed to the night’s music outside the protective walls.

You reach for the folder, pulling it closer as you feel its weight drag across the table. Fiddling with the corners for a while, you take a deep breath and flip it open. Multiple papers brace your sight, all similar in the format in which they are written, a familiar typing of reports made from vocal recordings used in research. Your skin tingles, apprehension massive in your chest. A quick overlook seems to indicate they have been carefully piled up for you like a meticulous story ending with a pile of photographs you quickly turn face down on the table, keeping them as the cherry on top of this madness. The first report waits for you, patiently, and you hold your breath as you read its sentences.

_RESEARCH LOG : 001-CHM-ADC |_ _RECORDED BY: Verstael Besithia_

_Since the Emperor's son died, Iedolas seems to have lost a bit of his interest in waging wars - and thus, my research are at risk if I were to lose his fundings. I have to find a way to bring him motivation again. I have many ideas, but one of them thrills me more than the others._

Already hating where this is going as soon as you saw the name, your heart stopped at the mention of the Emperor having a son. You never heard of a brother, not a single word ever laid upon his existence and betrayal settles in place of the low anger. Portraits of your ancestors decorated the walls of the place you grew up, names scribbled under them to remind the generations who’s watching over their steps. Your own picture taken only two years ago placed next to your father’s, not a single other child of his present to indicate your weren’t the only child you believed to be.

Lips in a thin line, you flip the page over and place it down on the table, reaching for the next one.

_RESEARCH LOG : 004-CHM-ADC |_ _RECORDED BY: Verstael Besithia_

_They found his son's corpse and we were able to sequence his genetic code for cloning, but I had a better idea. Instead of recreating something he had, I will give him the best heir he could wish for. If I could build the perfect code, Niflheim would get the Emperor needed to surpass them all. After all, the Emperor is not eternal and we need someone to support my research if something was to happen to Iedolas._

At this point, it’s impossible for you to ignore where this is going and you feel a shiver down your spine. Discarding the report, you find yourself quickly grabbing for the next one.

_RESEARCH LOG : 005-CHM-ADC |_ _RECORDED BY: Verstael Besithia_

_After meeting with some trusted members of my team, one of the geneticists volunteered to be part of the program. Her name should not be disclosed for confidential purposes, but I am weighing the possibilities of giving the Emperor a daughter instead of another son. As they say, behind every great man stands a woman._

Once again, you need to get to the other record, tossing the sheet aside.

_RESEARCH LOG : 012-CHM-ADC |_ _RECORDED BY: Verstael Besithia_

_We obtained a viable embryo, but I feel we could do better. It will be put with the clones to eventually become part of our troops. Now, I have to find the best possible match to create this child. Studying daemons is fascinating, but I never thought I would get this excited by building my own human._

The last four words linger in your mind, heavy in implications about what is coming next. The paper slides to the floor when you fling it to the side.

_RESEARCH LOG : 012-CHM-ADC-2 |_ _RECORDED BY: Confidential_

_Mr. Besithia asked the Chancellor if he wanted to take part in his project, to which Mr. Izunia refused. I doubt Mr. Besithia took 'no' as an answer since there's a part of the genetic code that is heavily password protected. What was a thoughtful gift at first appears to be turning into another moment of "playing Gods"._

This record does a good job on congratulating you for despising the man all those years. Yet, it doesn’t make you feel any better about what is unfolding as you read more of the reports. 

_RESEARCH LOG : 045-CHM-ADC |_ _RECORDED BY: Verstael Besithia_

_With proper care, she will be the Empress to lead Niflheim further into glory. That is, until she produces an heir of her own by reproducing with a daemon. It is still yet unknown how I will be able to slip this under Iedolas' nose, but I have well over twenty years to figure that out. Daemons are uncontrollable for most, but what if we could also mix with them in order to make hybrids? The possibilities are limitless._

Slapping the log down on the table, you know your guts had been right about yourself having a terrible purpose. Somehow, you could handle the idea of being artificially made, but bearing the ultimate goal of playing sheep to the breeding of a new species doesn’t settle well. Your hands shake slightly while you continue to decipher the point of this folder. 

_RESEARCH LOG : 055-CHM-ADC |_ _RECORDED BY: Verstael Besithia_

_The child was a success! Iedolas loved her the moment he saw her and won't let anyone near his precious daughter. The funds for my research are secured._

Merely a pale replica of a highly modified instance of his son would do a better job at describing your actual relationship with Iedolas Aldercapt. Did they even make the effort to use your father’s genes to create you or simply settled for using his son’s?

_RESEARCH LOG : 175-CHM-ADC |_ _RECORDED BY: H. R._

_The Princess is growing well, but I'm afraid Mr. Besithia lied to us when presenting his project. A friend hacked into the file of her genetic code and there's so many sequences from different people. There's still a bit that remains unable to hack, but we're trying to figure that out as Mr. Besithia has left the project in our hands. Maybe he thought we wouldn't be looking too much into it._

Since this one doesn't provide much information, it’s cast away immediately.

_RESEARCH LOG : 1692-CHM-ADC |_ _RECORDED BY: P. L._

_The Princess has run away from Gralea. Using her tag to geolocate her, she has been found in Lucis, a few hours south from the Rock of Ravatogh. The Emperor ordered letting her there for now until High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret comes back for investigations._

They knew where you were all along, betrayed by something inside you you had no idea even existed. Of course, Verstael would mark one of his creations one way or another as he does with everything.

_RESEARCH LOG : 987-XVII-4TH |_ _RECORDED BY: B. G._

_The daemons have all escaped and people are disappearing at an alarming rate. At this pace, there won’t be anyone left in this city within a week. I even saw the High Commander being infected and I’ve locked up myself in the lab. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m still recording. I just want to go home. Verstael has been found dead and, basically, everything is fucked up. I didn’t know we were conducting such atrocities. I hope the Astrals will show mercy on me as I was only following orders._

Coming to an end with the reports, your eyes lift toward the window at the far end of your kitchen, staring beyond it without seeing anything. You fear the content of the pictures, bracing yourself for this last step as you carefully put aside the last record and pick up at the pile of photos. As you turn them around, the first on top puts a crestfallen smile over your lips. It has your name written on the small white part at the bottom, alongside your father’s. You’re a baby, bundled up carefully in blankets in Iedolas’ arms, outside the castle you grew up in. Absolute joy and love sparkle inside his eyes, his gaze unable to stray further away from you even for a picture, a cruel reminder of how close you have been with the man until you reached pre-adolescence. Heart slowly shattering from the bittersweet memories, you lay it down next to you in order to continue your discoveries, already disliking the next one.

You have no problem recognizing a slightly younger version of Versteal standing in his facility next to the tube in which he grows his clones, except this one is way smaller. The man grins, proud of his work and you cuss him under your breath even if he will never hear it. The next pictures are mixed up between the darkness of the laboratory in which you were created and heartbreaking memories of your childhood. You’re barely five years old, running away from your father while laughing. The next one you’re yet again a newborn still wet from the substance inside the tube, held by Verstael the same way you hold a fine bottle of wine. And then you’re thrown back to the first speech you gave, your father standing pleased to your side.

Among them stands the reminder of your first dance with Ravus when you were barely thirteen, trying your best to look up to the boy already standing taller than you. He had been so stiff, a stick struggling to keep up the pace of music only to get ride of the tension as soon as you dragged him to the buffet and away from the dancefloor.

Flipping to the following one, you recognize the day you first met Aranea, face-to-face in your fanciest dress at the time while she’s clad in her faithful armor. Taking a closer look at the picture, you notice the hint of a smile at the corner of your lips, the first sign of how fast you fell for the woman. It’s a beautiful memory turned angsty by the photographs surrounding it. 

You shuffle them back together, only keeping the first one with your father, Ravus’, and the one when you met Aranea. Not bothering with the logs, you only pick up the three pictures you put aside and get up from your chair. Hesitating for a moment between joining your lover in bed or not, you’re still unable to fully grasp what you just read. Somehow, deep inside you, you had your doubts since all questions about your mother met awkward silences and polite smiles. 

Now you know. 

Now you know, but you have no idea what you’re supposed to do with such knowledge.

Eventually, you decided to spend the night in the company of your chocobo, finding peace with the simple act of petting its feathers while he slept. The gesture comforts you until morning, the sun rising at such a late time you wonder for how long will you be able to see it before the sky completely erases the burning star from the view. Your thoughts drowned in endless silence, the quiet interrogation if they ultimately wanted to also use Ravus as part of the plan placed for you. Why bother infecting him if not to test the possibility of daemon-human pregnancy? Maybe you’re thinking too far, but you doubt Ardyn would have given you this information for nothing.

Groaning, you let your head fall to your knees pulled up to your chest. The door to the pen made for your chocobo inside the storage opens, not bothering lifting up your head as it can only be Aranea. 

“Does it matter?” She asks openly, obviously hinting she read the reports you left scattered in the kitchen. If you had been against the idea of letting her see their content, you would have put everything back in the folder.

“No.”

Honestly, it doesn’t. You’re not lying to yourself or trying to suppress your feelings, but there’s a weirdness brushing up your throat and you don’t fathom the correct way to deal with it. In the long run, how you came up in this world changes nothing for your future.

“Good. Get up, then. It’s time I get your ass back on training.”

Raising your head, you quirk an eyebrow in interrogation.

“Come on, nothing’s hotter than a Princess who can kick some asses,” Aranea adds while offering you her hand.

Her words make you smile, the corner of your lip curling upward as you pick up what she’s doing. Killing two birds with one stone, she wants to pull out your mind from where it locked itself while putting up some good works. With the nights stretching every week, your fighting skills have no choice but to improve since you can’t always count on her being around to defend you when danger lurks in the cover of darkness. Wildlife around the lighthouse isn’t that bad, the daemons spawning when the sun doesn’t shine are where the trouble starts.

You grab her hand, allowing Aranea to help you back on your feet. Buddy wakes up from your movement, picking up his sign to walk out if he wants to get some fresh air while you’re around and he decides on his own to wander around the Cape. Meanwhile, you follow Aranea to the patch of grass reserved for her own training and where you are forbidden to ever plant anything. Normally, you would just watch her, mesmerized by the way she moves so gracefully. Aranea is deadly when needed, also not the best trainer as her patience is pretty thin. It led to a couple of times where she lost her cold with you, but you get the reason while she apologized shortly after. She wants to protect you. She wants you to learn how to do that by yourself, never one to like weakness. Strength comes in many forms and you have your own, yet this world is becoming less and less the place where words and stares do the deal.

Picking up her lance, you grab your sword as its familiar weight rests in your palm. Holding a weapon never stops being a foreign touch to your mind, your fingers not meant to grasp the sharpness of a blade. You clasp it a couple of times, spinning it to find a comfortable grip and position yourself like Aranea taught you. Balance is important if you do not wish to get toppled over on the first move.

“Attack me,” her voice orders you, tone sharp and you tense by reflex.

Breaking free from your slightly frozen state in a heartbeat, you learned better than charging at your opponent like some kind of barbarian. Scanning for an opening, you watched her so many times you know exactly where her vulnerable spot is and you aim at it. You’re not surprised as she blocks your attack swiftly using the midsection of her weapon, aware she would do so. Against you, she lowers her guard a bit too much and you prove her wrong by stepping behind her rapidly, toppling her to the ground in one tackle. Probably by luck, you chant in triumph while sitting comfortably on her ass.

“Cheap shot. Would you defeat a daemon like this?”

“Hey, if I can stab it in the back by doing so, why not? Okay, this technique can only work on some of them, but it’s not bad if it works!”

Too proud of yourself, Aranea turns her head to the side and stares at you over her shoulder.

“I guess you’re a bigger fan of close-combat than I am. Perhaps I should get you daggers instead. Now, get off my ass.”

“I don’t know, kind of like this throne for me to sit on.”

You were lucky to defeat her once, eating your fair share of dirt afterward and she graced you with some nasty cuts - nothing some care couldn’t handle, but it stings enough to motivate you in getting better at dodging. You’re not terrible, just drastically way less agile and strong than someone who was previously paid to hunt monsters before meeting you. Which makes a lot of senses, helping yourself to not feel like absolute trash every time your back hits the ground and the tip of her spear hovers over your chest. When the session ends, you sit down in the grass, steadying your breathing and wondering if you would indeed be more comfortable with shorter blades as you have a tendency to get really close during combat.

After telling you so, Aranea agrees to try and find you some in her next visit to the nearest outpost. Unfortunately, her next visit ends up in bad news as she comes back empty handed with the info of the place void of any humans. Lastly, daytime has been reduced to barely an hour a day, making the land virtually covered in daemons at any time to the point she had to leave with Buddy to ease the trip.

“Checked the whole place, not a single thing works. Zero lights. Best bet is they fled to bigger outposts for security.”

“What are we going to do? My crops died,” truth is they didn’t go further than sprouting, a sad thing considering all the efforts you put in that garden. Your shoulders drop slightly, sitting in defeat on the couch.

“What do you want to do?”

“There’s safety in numbers, but we don’t even know where to go. It would be stupid to roam Lucis with all these daemons around. You can’t defeat them all.”

Aranea is an amazing fighter, but there’s a limit you don’t wish to find about how long she can go before faltering. 

“We have a tent, a chocobo and a map. Don’t you have faith in us, babe?”

“Sounds like a terrible road trip,” you laugh at the trouble you are in if you decide to step outside in the wild without any real knowledge of Lucis.

No matter how far in the distance you look, you can’t make out any sign of life in the night that never ends. The only lights around appear to be yours, powered by the force of the ocean downhill. In daylight, you would have hopes regarding your long journey, but with the constant menace of darkness you’re not that quite optimistic. 

“Do we have other options?” Aranea knows more about the perimeter than you do, so you ask for her opinion.

“No. Well, we could always stay here and slowly starve to death because those stupid daemons are scaring the wildlife and fishing is dangerous.”

You never thought you would consider fishing a dangerous activity, but here you are imagining yourself holding a fishing rod only to get killed by a daemon as you’re standing still. A stupid way to die.

You sigh, letting your head fall into your hands. You guess it’s better to try than do nothing since you tried closing your eyes in the past and it didn’t turn out well for the people of Gralea.

“Fine. Let’s pack and figure out where to go. We’ll rest before leaving.”

Aranea nods, kissing you quickly before retiring upstairs to retrieve the discarded backpacks you brought with you on your first day. With a last glance to the unlit fireplace, you slap your thighs and get up, following after the woman. While she rummages around the bedroom to fill up her bag, you cross your arms and lean against the doorframe, observing her. Undoubtedly, she’s a beautiful woman. Strong and soft, a perfect balance between pretty and intimidating that had the misfortune of falling under your charms.

“Do you ever regret it? Us, I mean,” you ask in a tiny huff, afraid you may have filled her life with more troubles than necessary.

“What?” She stops in her tracks, a pair of leather pants in her hands. “Why would I?”

“You could have achieved greater ranks in the army if you accepted the promotions they gave you. You wouldn’t have to hunt every day to eat and you would have lived instead of survived.”

“Yeah, and I would have been turned into a daemon or something? Fuck that. I pick surviving with you anytime. Do you?”

“I love you more than I could love my own people. If I had to do it again, I would.”

You were raised to put your people first, to devote yourself to them. You were told to listen and protect them, to prevent any harm from coming over your lands. You dedicated most of your life to this foolish goal, wishing for nothing more than tipping the scale in a pattern that seemed favorable to your eyes, but all of it was set aflame when your heart picked love over duty. Since you met her, you found a motivation you didn’t know you craved. She swirled your world around, made you question your moralities and what you were willing to die for.

“Good, now start packing too.”

Obeying, you start with your clothes, folded carefully as to take the least space possible. It scares you, the upcoming traveling across unknown lands plunged in darkness. Despite having some fighting skills, you never had to use them and there’s no guarantee it will be a success when you face off your first enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter spoilers : action and a sidekick.


	5. Chapter 5

With all your might, you try to guess the actual distance between the lighthouse and the dot on the map you’re holding. Aranea decided to reach for a place named Telghey Haven, setting the destination as your goal for today and you can’t figure out how far it is. Truth be told, you don’t even know what a haven is, trusting you’ll learn in due time. As Aranea secures the last bag over Buddy, you fold the map and hand it to her where it will be most helpful. The chocobo ruffles its feathers, ready for the adventure more than you could ever be with stress bundling up in your stomach. Even if you understand the necessity of leaving your comfort zone to survive, it doesn’t mean you enjoy the idea of the journey awaiting you. With an ache in your heart, your attention lingers over the place that felt more home than your palace ever did in the last years and you give a light pat to your animal companion. Withdrawing your fingers, you slip them between Aranea’s and bundle up your courage.

She leads the way in silence, your lips shut tight with the tension pulling your shoulders back. Your senses are too aware of your surroundings. Every single crack of twigs makes you step closer to Aranea who's unable to hide the amusement in your skittish reactions showing how much unused you are to be in the wild. The outside world is vast and terrifying, plunged into a darkness you are not familiar with as you grew up under constant artificial lights. The last months at the lighthouse should have helped you to grow accustomed to it, but the dark encases you. Your mind has no trouble imagining shadows lurking near, ready to pounce your trio while nothing actually happens for longer than you believed when you left the lighthouse.

“How long do we have to walk?” 

Her fingers squeeze around yours, turning her head in your direction with a smirk. “Do you really wanna know?” 

The answer should suffice in preparing you mentally to dislike the reality. The fact this is far from over after reaching the haven does nothing to ease your worries as you agree with a nod.

“With your pace, roughly fourteen hours.”

“What?!”

Your feet will turn into mud at this point and you would prefer walking through Ifrit’s fire than continuing on this journey. As the Princess, you are not accustomed to lengthy displays of physical endurance and you groan your annoyance. Aranea snickers at your misery, swinging your hand.

“Are you not happy to spend so much time with me?”

You frown at her. “I’d prefer it if I didn’t feel like my heart was about to burst out of my chest from all the stress.”

“It’ll be fine. You have me and I’m pretty awesome.”

Of course she is, even if she says it as a joke. Without her, you would have died after spending three days at the lighthouse. Knowing how to cook won’t save you if you can’t get your hands on actual food supplies. Seemingly to when you lived in Gralea, your survival relies on someone else than yourself and it pulls awfully at your self-esteem. Every decision you take, you need to believe she will have your back. That no matter where you go and what you do, Aranea will be a part of it. Without her, you can’t achieve a single thing. Years may pass, people around you change, but your lack of true skills force you into mediocrity. 

There’s no doubt she can feel your motivation faltering, but she doesn’t press for you to speak up your worries as she can pick them up. This is neither the time nor place for self-depreciation and you swallow it all down to pick up a quicker pace. From afar, you can hear the actual presence of daemons, yet none of them get close enough for you to see them.

Aranea’s hand leaves yours to press her fingers across your chest and the simple gesture informs you of a nearby danger. Stopping in your tracks, Buddy almost rams into you and the light clipped on him wobbles around. The terrible vision renders you almost blind, only hearing the faint sounds of clicking growing closer. It takes time before you can actually see a small pack of saphyrtails roaming the perimeters. Aranea distances herself, pulling out her spear before engaging the first one to launch toward your team. 

Meanwhile, you fumble for the sword hanging on your hip. Unsheathing the object, its weight rests awkwardly between your hands and you lift it to point in the direction of one of the monsters creeping closer. Your instinct does its best for you as you sway the sword, hitting the scorpion-like on its side to send it rolling. Buddy uses the opening to jump on it as you are able to finish it off by plunging your weapon in it.

Your fighting skills may be questionable, but at least you have a team on your side with your bird. Yet, your victory halts when you tumble over face first in the dirt as a new opponent enters the battle. Another saphyrtail dives its dart in the dip between your neck and shoulder while keeping you down on the ground and the pain pulls a loud gasp from your lips. As the venom seeps in to cramp the muscles around the injury, a rush of adrenaline flows in your veins with the need to escape. You trash under the monster and Buddy picks up your struggle before slamming it away. In a rush, you’re up on your feet with your sword in one hand. The saphyrtail is left on its back, wiggling to try and roll over, as you approach it and plunge your sword into its body several times. Jaw clenched, you repeat the motion over and over until a hand presses over your arm.

Aranea uses a hi-potion to heal your injury and the effect of the poison subdued already. You blink back into reality with a glance in her direction and realise the fight finished a moment ago. Carefully, she takes away your sword and uses a cloth to clean up the biggest part of blood dirtying it. Once done, she places it back on your hip herself.

“I’m sorry,” you express.

She quirks an eyebrow. “What for?”

“Losing control. I wasn’t paying enough attention to the battle.”

“You made it through, that’s all that matters for now. You can’t be an incredible warrior on your first day. At least, you did something. I’ve seen too many people freeze when encountering their first enemy.”

She presses her forehead against yours after a quick kiss to ease your mind, brushing her fingers across your cheek before pulling away with a smile. Deep down, she is right. You can’t beat yourself over things you never practiced. All you can do is swear to hone the skill in favor of becoming capable to protect yourself. As poetic it is to have her fight for you, it makes you a dead weight on her mind and you don’t want it to drag her down.

“Let’s move.”

You agree, looking back to Buddy who gives you a gentle headbutt. Patting his head, you thank him for the help provided in fighting off the monsters. 

The journey is far from over, your legs growing tired from all the walking and fighting occurring every time you cross paths with wildlife. No daemons actually come to mess up with your party. Something odd neither of you actually mention as you can both build assumptions about the latest development on what and who you are. More cuts and gashes find their way over your skin, melting away less than an hour after being painted. This too remains under the silence until Aranea breaks it to order you to ride the chocobo. The more you advance, the slower you get and she doesn’t want to linger in the wild for longer than necessary. It hurts your pride, but you shut it out with no intention to let it override the facts. You are human. Being a Princess doesn’t prevent you from having weaknesses and Buddy carries you to your destination.

Approaching the haven, you confirm what it actually is with some quick input from Aranea. The rock protected by the divine touch appears already occupied as a fire lightens its surroundings and you glance back to Aranea. With a raised hand, she orders you to stay in hiding as she gets closer. Staying in retreat, you observe her as she walks up the path to the haven until meeting the lonely figure. You’re holding your breath while she speaks out of hearing range, hoping for the best. 

Her body turns in your general direction and gestures for you to come forward, indicating it’s safe to do so. Pressing Buddy onward, you step down from him and help the bird over the safe place. Almost immediately, he settles down from exhaustion on the rocky surface.

“A chocobo! I can’t believe it, I thought they were all extinct,” the stranger speaks up while coming too close for comfort from your bird. 

You step between them to shield your chocobo. Staring at him, an odd feeling swirls your guts with something familiar. You have seen him before, the gears in your mind rotate as you frown and he takes a step back. Attentively, you scan him until your eyes stop along his arm. You are quick to grab his wrist, lifting it up with a twist to admire the barcode printed on his skin and it’s a matter of seconds before the tip of a spear digs under his chin. You could recognize the numbers anywhere, but can’t comprehend how they ended up tattooed across the skin of an actual living being.

“What are your orders?”

Frozen in place with the weapon threatening to slash his throat at any moment, his gaze locks with yours in slight confusion.

“I was sent to investigate Cape Shawe. It had been abandoned for years, so they were wondering who managed to bring the lighthouse back on.”

“Sent by whom?”

“Some survivors set up a camp in Lestallum where you can take hunts and missions. I take it you are not from Lucis.”

“You neither,” you answer sharply, holding his wrist up to eye level. “How are you so human?”

For a moment, he stays silent and you decide to make Aranea step down. As she lowers her spear, he backs away a little and regains possession of his arm from your grasp. You can understand the unpleasant idea of getting attacked when he was peacefully enjoying his time alone, but it’s not every day you run into an apparent rogue magitek trooper.

“You guys are from Niflheim, right?”

“Answer her, blondie.”

Despite the direct threat of the blade removed from the young man’s throat, Aranea implies the evidence it can be brought back without any hesitation if she deems it necessary. He sighs, giving her a glance before frowning as he stares at her armor.

“Wait,” he gestures toward her. “Aren’t you Aranea? Like, the famous mercenary Aranea Highwind?”

“Yes, I am. So you better start talking if you don’t want your ass to end up on my kill list.”

The menace doesn’t hinder the sparks in his eyes like he just met some kind of idol he respects. There’s a grin spreading across his face when he turns his attention back to you, the pieces of his inner puzzle coming together.

“This means you are…” He trails, looking back and forth between you and Aranea to the point it gets uncomfortable. “You’re the Imperial Princess!”

His loud exclamation following his words breaks the joy of uncovering your identities to a stop as he steps backward once more.

“Oh shit, you’re the Imperial Princess. Please, don’t kill me. I promise I won’t say a thing.”

Your heart squeezes at his plea, painting you as the villain of the story in an instant like you could actually end his life with no second thought when you are actually more barks than bites. Is it how the people here see you? Nothing more than a copy of your father, ready to continue the battle of a deceased man even if you were yourself rumored to be dead - yet, most know better than blindly trust the newspapers.

“Oh, Astrals, no!” With raised hands, you shake your head while looking at him. “Why would I kill you? Did you do something I should be aware of?”

“Listen, I’ll just leave and act like we never met. Alright?”

“You don’t have to, the place is big enough to share. Are you… Are you that kid they kidnapped twenty years ago?”

It’s the only explanation you can come up with since you never heard of the idea to send clones as spies inside the Lucian territory. The story is quite famous between the walls of your home, mocking the lack of security inside the facility to the point Verstael went crazy about it over the years and never stopped improving it.

He nods briefly, eyes looking down in shame. 

“Then, you may have not been raised in Niflheim, but you are still one of my people. Why would I harm you?”

With his lips shut tightly, you sense he’s keeping something ugly from you and it makes you frown a bit more. What exactly he’s hiding can’t be right, otherwise you have to believe he would spill it in consideration of the obvious threat standing near you in the shape of your lover. Or perhaps he’s wary of you as you are the enemy.

“I assume you are responsible for something that affects me,” you ponder, bringing your arms behind your back as you stand in front of him. “Do you have any affiliation with the death of my father or Ravus’?”

He looks away immediately as you hit the nail and you struggle to keep your composure when every inch of your mind screams to unleash your sword. Your imagination is vivid, picturing the ease in which you could avenge them in one simple motion. Unfortunately, killing the young man won’t bring either of them back and you close your eyes for a moment.

Fate brought you and him in the same haven, meeting with someone you have all the reason in the world to hate and you currently do. With gritting teeth, you inhale sharply as you know how you would be advised to act. You should show your enemy no mercy, even less when they wrong you and there’s no one to hold you back from ramming your blade into the stranger before leaving his corpse to feed the wildlife. 

“They were infected by the Starscourge. The Emperor wasn’t even human at all when we had to fight him.”

Your fists clench at the mere implication behind his words. Of course, Verstael had to be behind it. The very man sharing his genes with the one standing so close at this moment. There’s not a single cell in your body not chanting for you to murder the failed experiment, hand finding rest over your weapon as you contemplate the possibility to shut up your thoughts.

“We?” You repeat after what seems like an eternity. “You provided an unfair fight against a lunatic’s experiments?”

“Honestly, we had a hard time taking them down so I wouldn’t say it was unfair.”

Opening your eyes, you stare at the young man while still weighing your two options. Kill him or spare his life. You don’t need to ask Aranea to get her opinion as she isn’t one to risk anything and would vote in favor of taking him out if it could help you cope even in any way. 

But this is not how you do better than your father. It’s easy to believe your father had fallen to madness in his last hours, just like you have no problem picturing them forcing Ravus on their side. For all you know about your deceased betrothed, he would have never accepted to get infected willingly and his death is probably for the best. You have to think rationally.

“What’s your name?”

“Prompto.”

Still gazing over him, you offer a hand in his direction. “Killing you won’t bring them back. As long as you speak the truth with me, you shall be safe.”

“Uh, thanks?” With confusion he shakes your hand to seal the deal.

The desire for revenge still lingers under your skin as you try to shake it off by expressing the core of what you believed in back in your hometown. Repeating mistakes of the past won’t lead you anywhere as seeking to avenge the fallen ones isn’t part of your short plan of surviving this world long enough to see it get better. 

Taking back your hand, you reach for your chocobo where you take away the bags from him and hand over the one with the tent to Aranea. She pauses for a moment on your side, the bag between her fingers with caution as to not leave the man out of her sight. By giving her a simple smile, she nods and finds a place to set camp while you rummage through your cooking supply.

“Have you eaten, Prompto?”

“No,” he answers carefully. “Didn’t get the motivation yet.”

“Would you like eating with us?”

“Will you try to poison me?”

You huff in amusement at his question, getting back on your feet as you get closer to the campfire in order to set up your things to cook. With a shake of your head, you glance over your shoulder in his direction.

“If I wanted to kill you, it would have been done already. I was against the war over Lucis and not a big fan of war in general. These lands are not mine as I am merely a guest here for the time being.” You take out a knife and cutting board as you speak, scrambling for the pot you place near the campfire. “Now, will you eat with us or not?”

He stares at you before spurting back to life with a quick nod. “I have some vegetables, if you want to use them?”

With two hours to spare as the stew you prepared cooks, you join Aranea on her side of the haven to land a hand with your setting. It’s almost done as she places the sleeping bags and just by looking at them you are convinced you will hate every second of this camping experience.

Pulling you closer, her chin points in the direction of Prompto busying himself around Buddy in utter fascination as the chocobo finds comfort under his petting.

“Do you really trust him?”

“Trust?” You repeat with surprise in a low voice. “For now, I rely on him to get information about the world around us and what’s going on.”

“What if he tries to kill us in our sleep?”

“Then, you have my blessing to defend us. At any cost.”

She hums while you pull your gaze away from Prompto’s excitation when Buddy lays his head over his laps. As much as she can sense your apprehension toward the man, a piece is missing for her to completely understand even if Aranea is intelligent enough to fill the holes by herself. Careful to not attract attention, you reach inside the tent for your personal bag and get a hold of the photographs in the file you know she didn’t pay much regard. Shuffling through them, you finally pull out the one showcasing Verstael almost three decades ago in his lab with gray hair and his younger features proving he aged inhumanely quickly in the last years. 

Aranea takes the picture, eyeing it closely before lifting her attention toward Prompto with a frown and you speak up.

“I can’t trust a man like him, but Verstael had a way to keep people with a purpose close to him. I have to assume he could be similar.”

“What if he isn’t?” She hands you back the picture and you are quick to dispose of everything where it comes from. “He doesn’t strike me as a bad guy.”

“You said the same thing the first time you met Ardyn.”

“He was really charming!” 

You swat her across the shoulder playfully with a roll of your eyes, aware of the actual situation in which the chancellor only succeeding in fooling Aranea for a few hours at best, but your point still stands.

“Anyway. He said something about a town with survivors. This should be our first investigation if we can find a way to blend in.”

“Your chance for a cover is already blown up. If he tells anyone, I don’t think Lucians will give you a warm welcome. We should gather our intel and kill him.”

“What is it with you and killing everything?”

First Buddy, now Prompto. You are starting to believe she may actually have a thirst for blood despite how much she claims her past as a mercenary was only motivated by money. She shrugs, reaching for your hand to hold softly.

“I don’t like taking risks. Even more when it comes to you.”

Glancing at her with a smile, you get closer and press a quick kiss over her lips. There’s no denying the possibility of Prompto being a threat to your peaceful desire to live through the period of darkness, bound to disappear one day, yet you can’t bring yourself to accept the possibility of letting Aranea murder him. As of now, you can’t hold any tangible accusations against him to justify the act to your mind. Living with the ghost of all the people your father killed is enough for your guilt, having no desire to upscale the number furthermore. 

With nothing else to add, you bring her with you toward the stew as you inspect its progress with a gentle stir of your wooden spoon. Aranea takes up the opportunity to sit down with you, pulling your body in her lap as she lets you work with her arms draped across your midsection. It sends a pleased shiver down your spine, unused to her display of affection even when left alone in intimacy. She even pushes the audacity to splatter your neck with butterfly kisses and you get ticklish as a giggle spills from your lips.

It drags Prompto’s attention in your direction and his eyes widen while you meet his. You have no explanation to give him, no excuses to form as you own him nothing and simply retort in bathing in your lover’s display of affection. Somewhere, you suspect the young man being responsible for her sudden territorial behavior and need to showcase your relationship to a world unaware of it.

“There are refugees from Niflheim in Lestallum,” Prompto speaks up and your surprise catches up on his words. “Some speculated about the Princess running away with her guard instead of dying in Altissia. Is this why you run away?”

The news of some of your people being safe in another city hits you like a wall of ice, erasing completely the warmth from your insides as you freeze. Not stirring the stew anymore, your gaze falls down and Aranea pulls her face away from your neck.

“No, that’s not why. Princess here simply hated everything around us.”

While it’s one way to put it in one short explanation, the answer sits wrongly with you as you return to stirring to busy your hand. 

“I felt powerless in front of their decisions. There was no use to fight them over my father's war or Verstael’s monstrous experiments for power. Whenever I succeeded in pulling a single good thought out of my father, Ardyn showed up to sweet talk him back into their goal.” There’s no secret in the way the Empire worked from the inside, but war wasn’t the biggest tool on your morality. “You already know how Verstael used clones of himself, but he also experimented over our own people. According to him, the plague was only a way to enhance humans and make us better in every way. I saw it with my own eyes and I couldn’t do a single thing. It drove me sick.”

Most of the time the images were locked away in a secret part of your mind, but speaking about it brought all the memories back to the surface and the screams you could hear in the facility can never be forgotten. The misery, the pain and the smell, all of it nightmares which happened to be too real. 

Prompto gets up to get closer, finding a seat across the campfire as he thinks for himself.

“When I was in Zegnautus Keep with my friends, we saw dead daemons in cells.”

“These daemons were once people of Niflheim, the ones I swore to protect against any threat. And I failed them. This is why I need to get Lestallum and regain my honor by helping them. I can’t abandon them twice.”

There’s a little play in your words, one to bend over Prompto in your favors as you analyze exactly what kind of person he is. If he shares any personality trait with the man who created him, your story won’t move him at all. Yet, his eyes fill with stars and he smiles.

“So, that’s like your character arc? You want to redeem yourself from running away from your duties when you should have stayed and fought back?”

“I do not seek any kind of redemption, I’m simply doing my best like everyone else.”

“Technically speaking, this whole place is yours. Isn’t?”

“Lucis can get back its lands, I don’t care about expansion and power. Unfortunately, the power seems to be in Ardyn’s hands for now.”

Truth be told, your wish for a crown over your head never laid with a desire to raise yourself above any made-up enemies. There’s always a way to avoid overstepping into other territories and you are not one to actively search for a fight resulting in avoidable casualties. Peace is only attainable when you are capable of great violence and there’s no doubt your Empire proved itself competent in such a feat.

With a last stir, you announce food to be ready and it closes the current conversation. Your lack of experience with cooking shows by the absence of a decent taste, yet neither Aranea nor Prompto says a word about it. The meal serves the purpose of satiating hunger and that’s enough for today as you have plenty of time to improve yourself. 

As Aranea doesn’t trust the young man entirely, she proposed to stand guard, but you advised her otherwise and she now sleeps soundly next to you. By arranging the sleeping bags like blankets, it offers the possibility for her arm to be snaked around your waist and her head to rest against your shoulder. It doesn’t happen often to have her curled up on your side, showing a vulnerability that needed years to unveil behind her walls. You never spoke about her problems, but you don’t need to when it’s so obvious that behind her self-confidence lays trust issues. If you have your own struggles, Aranea too fights inner battles of her own and you bathe happily in every tiny progress she makes along the years.

Trying to empty your mind despite your inability to find sleep, your fingers comb slowly through her silver hair. This journey is only beginning, the Gods only know what awaits you in the future and you have no way to prepare yourself for their games. When you left Gralea, you had been convinced it had been the best decision to make for your own sanity, but now you are not so sure it had been the path you should have taken. Yet, you can’t go back in time and change things, no matter how hard you ponder over it.

With a sigh on your lips, Aranea stirs awake. Blinking slowly, she pulls up to take notice of your open eyes and her features turn into a scowl.

“Didn’t sleep much?”

“Not at all, but it’s alright.”

She huffs her disagreement, but you give her a small smile and she can’t resist the urge to send it back with a kiss over the tip of your nose. With that being done, Aranea leaves the comfort of the poor excuse of a bed to get ready for the day ahead while you watch her lazily. From the guess she took at the map before falling asleep, you are in for one hell of a ride you’re not quite sure you want to embark just now. Your muscles are still sore from the walk you just went through. 

When Aranea ties up her hair, you worm out of the warm embrace to retrieve your normal clothes and change. You can still back away from the city mentioned where you can hope to find some of your people as their potential reaction scares you. If they were to hate you, you are not sure if you could live comfortably with it. While away, you can always pretend they still hold you dear in their hearts.

“We don’t have to go there immediately if you don’t want to,” Aranea reminds you with a soft caress over your arm.

You give no precise gesture, only vague movement representing the inside of your mind. “I can’t always run away from my problems, can I?”

“Technically, you could. But I know how important your people are to you and how you can’t stop thinking about them. You never stopped. You don’t have to choose between me and them, you can have both.”

“What would you want to do? You’re always saying you’ll follow me everywhere I go, but why are you the only one making compromises? Let’s go where you want to for once.”

“Don’t you get it?” She steps in front of you to lock sights. “By your side is where I want to be. I don’t care about the rest as long as we’re together. This journey is exactly what my life has always been before I met you and I loved it.”

“You never told me why you picked up the bodyguard job.”

A smirk dances on her lips, chin tilting up as she raises a hand to brush over your cheek and you lean into it. “You wouldn’t love the answer.”

A frown gains your features as you step away from her touch, crossing arms under your chest as you wait for more. Judging by the answer she provided, you can only guess it won’t be fun to hear when you can put up assumptions with her field of expertise.

“You don’t need to hear it. Now, we should pack our things and get going.”

By avoiding the topic, she gives out new orders and you huff your disappointment before leaving the tent with a light stomp in your steps. Everything is dark outside, no change in the lack of sun sucked up from the plague covering the lands and your gaze falls over your sleeping chocobo. Curled on his side rests the young man, bundled up in a sleeping bag and a blanket that spurts a smile on your face. Buddy sure knows how to make friends fast.

Reaching for the campfire, you pull out the basic necessities to brew fresh coffee since you will need the boost to get going with the little rest you managed to gather. Preparing a mediocre excuse of breakfast on the side, you watch Aranea fold the tent with a bit of struggle as she wrestles the object back into its bag.

The noises stir Prompto awakes, the man yawning as he sits up and you give a glance his way. With hair unkempt, he harbors the same style as your chocobo which is nothing close to Verstael pristine appearance you have been used to. 

“Good morning,” you throw his way with a smile. “Are you trying to steal my chocobo?”

He pouts, fingers ruffling up his hair to bring order in the mischievous strands. “Maybe?”

With a laugh, you resume your breakfast preparation by finally pouring yourself a cup of fresh coffee and the smell lures Prompto closer. Lifting up your own cup, you silently ask if he wants one and he declines.

“I don’t drink coffee. You don’t drink Ebony?”

You wince. “Canned coffee? What kind of monster drinks that?”

“I’ve a friend who only swears by it,” he replies with amusement and you are even more offended to hear there are actual beings buying this crap.

“Well, your friend is blind to what real coffee is supposed to taste like.”

He laughs with an odd hint in his voice, but you don’t press it further. In your daily life in Gralea, coffee did play some weird part into your routine and you suddenly miss the stability of reaching for your favorite shop in town. Joke aside, Aranea steps into your chattering by nearly giving Prompto a heart attack as she slips your map under his nose.

“Is this the city you talked about?”

Prompto follows her finger and nods. “Yeah, that’s Lestallum.”

She pulls the object away and analyses it with a low hum you perceive as the annoying distance between where you are and where you want to go. You sip on your coffee, waiting for something to unfold as Prompto wiggles a little on his feet.

“I’m going back there... I could take you with me?”

Aranea lowers the map to fully glare at him. “What’s in it for you?”

“An actual proof of what was going on in Cape Shawe? If you guys were really the one living in the lighthouse, I will get my money without any questions.”

“We want half of the price you were promised.”

He blinks, eyeing you weirdly after Aranea’s words. “Aren’t you supposed to have money? I mean, you’re the Princess, right?”

“I’m sure they will accept her cards. Idiot, do you think we got much gil on us?” Aranea answers for you while you’re still burning the tip of your tongue over the coffee you made. She may not be a better negotiator than you, but Prompto seems to be terrified of her while you don’t brush him off much of a threat right now. “Half or I’m killing you and we take your truck. I saw it back there.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “No killing, Nea. We talked about this. I know you’re a big fan of the kill or be killed thing, but that’s not how I do it. We’ll go with him and we’re only taking twenty-five percent of his reward.”

“Or I could leave you both here and tell everyone the Niflheim’s Princess was living in the abandoned lighthouse with her bodyguard. It’s not like I need a visible proof. I saw you, it should be enough.”

“I’m letting you ride Buddy when we reach the city if you give us twenty-five percent.”

His eyes light up immediately. “Really? Deal!”

Aranea sighs with a roll of her eyes. “Whatever, I’ll go put our things in the truck.”

With an annoyed click of her tongue, she lets you be with the young man as she gathers up your stuff and goes for the vehicle. As she won’t leave without you, you stay where you are while looking up at Prompto.

“Don’t mind her threats. As long as you are not trying to actively kill me, she won’t do anything.”

“Guess that’s how it is when you’re protecting royalty.”

“She’s not protecting her princess,” you answer quickly, putting down your cup to reach for some wild berries. “We’ve been together for nearly six years now. If I had to, I would kill to protect her too.”

With that being said, you eye him for what feels like an eternity before smiling softly. Prompto doesn’t strike you as the type to be a bad guy despite the first apprehension and you don’t want to fall on his bad side. This game of politics is different than the one you are used to. There’s no fancy cocktails or long dresses caressing the floor as you walk. Here and now, you are one blade away from your grave at any wrong word and you can’t just bare your teeth at everyone. 

“I like your style, Prompto. As weird as it may sound, you remind me of home.”

It’s oddly honest. The memories of these clones trapped in endless tubes are nothing but a series of pictures in your mind. Images of lifeless bodies born from a sociopath wishing to be replaced by the lively sight of a man as easily excited as a promise to spend time with a chocobo. 

“I really hope you’re not playing tricks on me,” Prompto speaks almost as a whisper with his gaze lingering over the haven before reaching for his own tent he didn’t use.

“Trusting people doesn’t make you weak or stupid. Those who betray you are to blame as there’s nothing pretty about biting a helping hand. I’m afraid we’ve been off to a bad start, but I want you no harm.”

“What do you want, then?” He replies while doing impressive work of undoing his tent and you’re left surprised by how easy he makes it look to put the devilish thing back in its bag.

“I don’t know, but- what- how? How are you making this look so simple?”

Prompto cracks a smile while showing off the bagged up tent. “This? A friend taught me. Jealous?”

“No, I hate camping. I’m just really impressed.”

“You done, ladies? We’re almost ready,” Aranea breaks the conversation again with a slight frown and you nod while packing up your things.

You offer her the bowl of berries you were previously eating from and she takes it. Buddy joins your side with a headbutt against your arm and you pet the big bird, cooing at him as he ruffles his feathers. Pulling a green from your bag, you lure the chocobo toward the truck and help him up to settle in the back with more food. How easily he obeys makes you ask silent questions about his past, all of them having no chance to get any answers.

It doesn’t take long before you’re all set, placing yourself in the back seats while Prompto takes the wheel and Aranea picks up the passenger spot. You don’t mind the chance to get some rest, laying your head against the window despite the constant rumbling of the road wiggling your brain to the point of stirring dizziness. Yet, you’re slowly rocked into sleep before your head bounces and smacks against the glass.

The truck hits a sudden halt while you groan, hearing the chaotic noises outside as the front doors swing open and Aranea instructs you to stay where you are. Blinking tiredness away, you straighten yourself to glance outside the vehicle where you notice the red giant mercilessly swinging its sword in order to hit either Aranea or Prompto. Quickly, you unfasten your seatbelt and bolt out of the truck, pressed footsteps leading you into battle with your sword in your hands.

You may have panicked, now standing in a dangerous zone with no idea how to actually fight the daemon and your fingers clench around the weapon. The red giant spins around ungracefully, its sword swirling close before it raises the blade up with the obvious intent to kill you. With a gasp, you move to the side and avoid the sword crashing into the road. Aranea yells your name and there are gunshots deafening your left side from the sounds made on impact with the daemon. Clenching your jaw, you frown while staring at the giant switching target back to Aranea. With her attention over you with wide gestures as she tries to make you step back from the battle, you hurry close to her and raise your sword by reflex.

“No!”

The giant’s sword stops barely a few inches away from yours, frozen in time while still clearly alive. It stares at you while you do the same, head tilting to one side as you catch up on what’s happening despite the implication you will have time to dwell over later.

“Get off the road,” you order it with a test of your quick hypothesis. 

Slowly, it draws back its sword and steps away from you. The heavy weapon drags across the street while the giant reaches for the side of the road, disappearing into the woods with lazy strides like nothing just happened. 

Taking the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your own weapon drops to the ground and your hands start shaking. You look at them, eyes widening before giving a glance toward Aranea for help. As a sign of support, she squeezes your shoulder and brings you closer into a half hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You idiot, I told you to stay put,” comes as a whisper from her.

“What just happened?!”

Prompto skitters over, staring down the small forest where the enemy took off. Still holding her spear, Aranea carefully points it in his direction as he hasn’t let go of his gun.

“Nothing that concerns you. After you have taken us to Lestallum, we won’t see each other again.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere without an explanation,” he insists and you sigh.

“I don’t know.” There’s annoyance in your tone when you turn around to face him while retrieving your sword. “Everything I was ever taught is useless here and I’ve lost any concept of who I actually am. Is this what you want to hear? Because I have no proper answer to give you, no truth outside the fact I’m just like you.”

He lowers his gun with a raise of his eyebrows. “What?”

Aranea tenses on your side, but if you wish for the young man to trust you, honesty is your only option. There’s no point in hiding, even if it means your people discover the truth and reject you as their leader. You don’t seek to guide them anyway, even if you haven’t figured yet what it is exactly you want by reaching a city where some made it safely.

“I was made in a lab too.” You take a step closer and he doesn’t move. “By the same man you share your appearance with. I’m a picture made from several puzzle pieces and I don’t know their origins. My father had a son who died, he’s the one I get my blood from. Verstael wanted a perfect human specimen, the epitome of an Empress. Unfortunately, he got me.”

“Wait.” Aranea stops you from continuing and you’re on the verge of insisting for her to let you speak, but she gestures between you and Prompto. “You were the one to tell me he loved to spice up shit with a bit of himself everywhere. Is there a chance you possess some of his genes?”

You didn’t think about it, but now that she mentions it you are left staring at her while your mind runs away. If you did believe a bit of the man you despised lived inside your existence, you didn’t draw any relationship to the clones as you never considered them as actual living beings.

There are too many emotions crossing Prompto’s face for you to catch up what could be going on inside his mind. As a final statement, you shrug.

“Maybe. Thank you for the dreadful image of having way too many step-brothers now and they’re all very zombie-like.”

Aranea stares at you before pressing a hand over her own face with a sigh. With her other hand, she points more sternly toward Prompto and the gears inside your mind pop in place.

“Oh! Oh,” you stare at the young man glancing back at you. “Well, there’s no way to be sure of anything, so we should just get going.”

You avoid the topic, not in the mood for over-thinking anything related to your past and who you are. Anyway, what should be a stranger after all these years apart even if you were to actually share a bit of blood? Your only family died, Aranea remaining as the main reason you keep pushing forward. Without her, you would have never left Gralea and perished alongside most of your people, thus never embarking on this journey.

Prompto nods, unspoken words on his lips as he reaches back to the truck and everyone settles in their spot. He turns on the radio, drowning the silence under loud music preventing you from efficient thinking while you observe the unknown landscape unfolding under the dark veil. 


	6. Chapter 6

The ride stretches in complete absence of conversation, the silence covered by the blasting music from the radio. Despite the sound piercing your ears, you grew numb to it after a couple of minutes and can barely notice it anymore, unlike Aranea who finally reaches her limit. As she presses the button to shut down the noise, the vehicle falls back into a calm quietude and Prompto doesn't say a single word about it. With your mind running miles an hour, you don't register the interruption of music immediately nor Aranea turning around in her seat to glance your way.

"You okay back there?"

With a low hum, you acknowledge both her question and your own feelings even if you keep them bottled down inside your head. It’s a complicated situation, one you didn’t have to face until now. Even if you had your fair share of moral battles between staying in Gralea or leaving, the steps now taken differ as you are trying to figure out where your heart rests. On your way to meet the survivors from your home, your guts tangle themselves over the apprehension of what they will say upon realizing what you did. Since your father died, Niflheim fell in the hands of the nearest one in charge and it is not a birthright you can claim back. You are not royalty, merely a runaway princess stripped from any power she had when staying under the Emperor’s watch. Ardyn plays the ropes, his sick wills tarnishing the world as you knew it. Your people expected you to take over when your father would pass away, but too many things happened in the span of so little time and this duty you have been trained for seems far fetched. 

Staring outside the window, the landscape under your eyes fails to register in your mind as your forehead lays against the glass. Technically speaking, you are no one. Not even a clear biological child of the deceased Emperor and you don’t know if you actually share more genes with someone over any other unknown names written in your blood. Pulling your head away from the window, you turn your attention toward Prompto who’s driving. Even from the backseat, you notice his hands holding the wheel with such a hard grasp that his knuckles are white. 

You share similarities with the young man brought along your journey. The first one being you apparently don’t have specific parents and were born from a facility for scientific purposes. The exception being you were expected to live while he wasn’t. It’s both a miracle and a curse he breathes, but so is it for you. Yet, there’s no one here forcing you to assume the duties you occupied for years, only your morals can’t let you run away again from the people you love deeply and vowed to protect. You did it once and the world flipped into darkness and, even if you know it’s only a coincidence, it nags at you.

“What’s eating you up?”

Aranea’s voice stirs you away from your thought and only then you notice the way she stares at you from the passenger seat. Lowering your gaze, you shake your head with a sigh.

“I’m not fit for this. Even if we reach them, then what? What are we supposed to do? I can’t even defend myself, how could I ever protect my own people?” You ask the question out in the open without hoping for an actual answer.

Aranea glances toward Prompto before looking back to you as she reaches a hand to press it over your knee. “You think your dad could fistfight anyone in an actual battle? Leaders lead, they don’t win wars by themselves.”

You hum, aware physical strength doesn’t come with the crown even if it is well seen to be able to stand your ground a little bit. Prompto scoffs and you both eye him with a frown.

“A leader? The Emperor?”

“He wasn’t always like this,” you defend your father in a heartbeat. “And how can you talk when your Kings abandoned all of their kingdom to only protect their own city behind their magical wall? I saw it. The barred land outside Insomnia while the capital itself lives like the rest of Lucis doesn’t exist.”

He falls into silence and you sit back with your arms crossed under your chest. At least, your people didn’t suffer from the obvious favoritism of their protector. As much as you despised many things about Niflheim, living inside its boundaries wasn’t an everyday battle against the elements while the ones in charge hid behind their pristine walls. 

“No need to fight over it,” Aranea cuts the tension. “Both the King and the Emperor are dead now anyway. And we got Ardyn hiding in the Citadel instead!”

She plays it as a joking fact, but you sigh and bend over to place your face inside your palms. Ardyn is the worst option you could get, the man ridden by a desire you can’t understand, the gears of his mind a complete mystery even when you believed to know him. To think a part of this man lives inside you is sickening, every person you came to hate seeming to actually carry on inside your blood in a horrible twist of fate.

“As long as he stays there, he’s not much of a problem until Noct comes back.”

“Yeah, we got plenty of daemons to deal with instead.”

“They don’t seem to be much of a threat to you.”

Prompto looks your way in the rear mirror as you lift up your head to stare back. Unfortunately, this reality comes with a price as you swallow down the implication you don’t want to bring out loud. If the daemons don’t attack you, and even show obedience, it means you got infected at some point. When and how exactly, you can only speculate about the medical exams you went through along your life without suspecting a thing. Was your father aware of Verstael’s intentions all along? Was his promise of a gift to the Emperor only an excuse to build up a specimen to experience on?

“So, that’s the plan? We just wait for the Chosen King? What if he never comes back?” You mumble and Aranea smirks in your direction.

“What? Not a fan of waiting for a man to come over and rescue us all?”

You heard the prophecy, you know about the details and the subtleties, but you never had to face the questions rising now with your eyes staring down at your own hands. 

“You know what I mean,” you huff out with slight defeat and a slouch in your shoulders.

Her hand squeezes around your knee. “Yeah. You’re belittling yourself when I know what you’re capable of. Have more confidence in your skills, they were acquired by learning from those who backed away from nothing to reach their goal. Sure, they weren’t good people, but this doesn’t mean you can’t do better. And if your people want nothing to do with you, well how unfortunate for them and I’ll have you all for myself. We’ll move on and find the right place.”

Listening closely to her monologue, you have to admit her reasoning speaks truth and you give her a sheepish smile for beating yourself over things that never bothered you before. If the survivors of Niflheim reject you as one of their own, no one holds you back from leaving Lestallum. As long as you and Aranea are alive, you have something worth fighting for no matter who joins your steps.

You put a hand over hers, the warm contact enough to dissipate the last worries inside your mind for now as you have to accept the consequences of your decisions. This is who you are, who you were raised to be. Proud. No matter the problems, you would face them with your head held high and the conviction you will find a way to get out victorious. 

“Why did we stop?”

Despite the sweet moment with Aranea, your eyes dart to the front and see the vehicle stopped with Prompto looking over in the distance. Raising a hand, he points in a vague direction while Aranea turns around to scan the surroundings. You see it, the green blob holding a lantern and another small object.

“How cute!” You exclaim, scrambling to move a bit more toward the front of the truck even if it doesn’t help your eyesight. “What is it?”

“Cute?” Prompto replies dryly. “That’s a tonberry. One stab of its little knife and you’re dead.”

“And? So could a really dedicated child with a butter knife. I’m a Princess, I’m not immortal.”

“They’re killing machines.”

Even Aranea appears uneasy when you glance in her direction. From your point of view, the monster seems harmless, wobbling from right to left before changing its mind and going another way. Yet, if Aranea stays silent under Prompto’s words, you have to believe what he says and you sit back down.

“Are we going to stare at it until the end of the world? Just drive around,” you gesticulate to the free space around the tonberry and Prompto gives you a weird look.

“And give it a chance to slash my tires? You’re nuts.”

Aranea pinches him for insulting you even if it’s meant in a friendly way and you sigh. Waiting for something to happen is obviously a terrible plan, the wait eating up at your lover as you can see her fidgeting in her seat. Backing away from a fight doesn’t come easy to her, especially when it’s a problem standing in her way, but by staying inside the vehicle you comprehend how serious the threat is.

Your attention draws to the side, picked up by flying lights in the sky creeping closer by the second. With a frown, you scoot next to your window for a better view and your heart enters a frenzy when you recognize the familiar sight.

"Guys! An aircraft’s coming!" You exclaim in happiness, forgetting all the recent events of the last years and how these objects were normally used for war purposes.

Both of them find the object in question while you watch in utter glee as it comes to a halt near the route where you wait. Its door opens, agonisingly slow as you anticipate who it could be and more importantly what. You highly doubt this luck could be bad, a hand coming up to press against the glass as you observe the first men of the infantry descend on the ground.

“They’re humans!” You mention toward the evidence since the other possibility could have been trickier.

They attract the tonberry’s attention, entering into battle with it and you understand Prompto’s words as you watch it stand its ground with a gasp escaping your lips. Despite being outnumbered, the short monster succeeds in taking out two men before being taken down by the last blow of someone wearing a more complex type of armor. The sight is vaguely familiar, not a figure you have seen often, but your memory places back the puzzle needed to recognize the man in the distance. You may not know Loqi personally, but you did meet him a couple of times back in Gralea and around his dad’s coffee shop.

As the men gather the ones injured in the assault, you notice Loqi coming closer to the vehicle and you’re out of it without thinking. You haven’t seen anyone from home in such a long time that it feels surreal as you walk toward him and see his facial expression twist in so many ways before realisation hits him. Barely a couple meters away, he drops to one knee with a fist over his heart and bow his head.

“Princess, what an honor to finally find you.”

“Please, stand up. I am not in charge and this title doesn’t hold any power anymore.”

As he obeys and stands up on his feet, he shakes his head. “On the contrary. Your people are waiting for your return and won’t accept orders from anyone else because they’re convinced you’re alive. After what happened inside Gralea, they understood why you disappeared. Information spreads fast, but rumors are even faster.”

“They do not resent me?” You ask in surprise.

“Some of them are bitter, but most aren’t.”

Hearing it from someone outside your daily routine for the last months provides some kind of comfort as you gaze behind his shoulder to the rest of his squad. Aranea and Prompto join you, Loqi only acknowledging the first.

“Aranea, it’s good to see you again.”

“Who wouldn’t be,” she remarks and you can’t help but give her a strong look for her reply. 

Aranea and Loqi exchange a long stare before he breaks away from her to land back his attention on you.

“I was tasked by our people to find you. Now that I did, I must know if you wish to come with us.”

Your heart yells yes, but your head turns toward Aranea and your new friend. Prompto is glaring openly at Loqi for a reason you don’t know, but you don’t want to press on the matter, while Aranea appears stoic. Her facade is up, the usual cold wall she can be presenting itself to the man she barely knows. As much as you want to be reunited with your people, you still can’t grasp if it is something Aranea also desires. She says she would follow you anywhere, but you can feel something is underlying her words. Even if you understand her better than anyone else, you can’t read her mind and dig around to find the problem, so you have to believe she will speak up eventually if you wrong her.

You focus your gaze on Prompto, calling out his name for him to turn around. “Will you embark with us? I am sure the truck can fit inside the aircraft and it would make a safer way to reach Lestallum.”

The tension in his body can be seen from where you stand, his jaw clenched tight and fist curled by his side. You understand he may not be inclined to trust Niflheim so easily and you let him ponder over it in silence without rushing for an answer. Unfortunately, Loqi doesn’t share your patience.

“The Princess asked you a question.”

You raise a polite hand in Loqi’s direction. “He is aware, let him. I do not know the matter between you two, but you better drop it. These times are not one for fighting each other.”

“He’s Lucian. And a friend of their Prince.”

“And?” You press on, glancing over the man in heavy armor. “We are in Lucis and Prince Noctis is considered missing in action. The plague has stretched to everything around us, I do not believe now is time for petty disagreement about who is from where.”

“I’ll come with you,” Prompto announces in the middle of your lecture to the other man.

Loqi probably wished for him to back away and only have to deal with you and Aranea. Yet, you decided to step in for your new partner since you may have a bit of interest in learning more about him. Displeased with the outcome, Loqi manages to keep his mouth shut by turning on his heels while going back for the aircraft that landed in the middle of the road.

Letting Prompto drive his truck, you stay outside with Aranea by your side as a man in uniform gives visual instructions to get the vehicle in. With everything going on, you are lucky to notice Buddy taking interest in what is unfolding around him only now. As you walk up the ramp behind the moving vehicle, the chocobo stands up and puffs out its feather in a sudden panic mode as he tries to escape the place where he laid peacefully for hours. Leaving Aranea’s side to rush to the bird, you wait for the truck to stop moving and climb into the box. Buddy voices out his anxiety, even flapping his wings and you struggle to put him back under control as you skim your hands across his body.

Hushing at your chocobo with a hand stroking his feathers, he emits pure panic and you try your best at comforting the poor animal. You have to use some force, grabbing his face to pull him down for eye contact. He stops trashing where he stands, vocalising his worries at you while you keep the animal levered and convince him it is a safe place to be and you are here for him. Eventually, after more talking and petting, Buddy calms down enough for you to bring him back into a resting position where you sit alongside the bird in the truck’s box.

Aranea comes around the vehicle, eyeing both you and the bird as you don’t stop stroking its yellow feathers.

“I’ll gather some intel for us while you watch over Buddy, alright?”

You nod with a tired smile, not in any mood to bring up your inner Princess when all you want is to fall asleep. Managing a night off with barely any sleep is easier when you live inside a lighthouse like the rest of the world doesn’t exist, but it quickly catches up with you when travelling.

Finding peace for a couple of minutes, noises by your side make you open your eyes and notice Prompto finding a seat with you. 

“You don’t mind, don’t you? I don’t really know what else to do.”

You hum your accord and Buddy reaches over to place his head over Prompto’s legs, inciting the young man to pet him.

“It makes two of us.”

He gives you a weird look, glancing around before indulging in this conversation. “How come?”

“I’m sure you can guess. I’m lost, yet I know what I have to do, but there’s something pulling me back.”

You find it easier than you would have imagined to open up to a near complete stranger. As much as Prompto remains a figure you met a day ago, there is still this vibe reminding you from home when he’s nearby. You push it over the resemblance he shares with a man who has been in your life since your first day in this world, even if you didn’t always have a good relationship with him.

“I get the feeling. What’s the problem? Do you want to talk about it?”

Perhaps you shouldn’t, but since you left your pristine walls, you have robbed yourself of all your friends. Even Ravus has been removed from your life and there are times when you would need his advice. They weren’t always the best, but he tried and the thought of him puts a smile on your lips. He may not be the reason you want to backtrack, yet the real one is not too far from you in this right moment. With a sigh, you let your head fall back against the metal of the truck.

“It’s Aranea,” you let out in a whisper and hit Prompto by surprise. “She’s been acting weird in the last year. She had always been against leaving Gralea, even when I was just joking, but all of a sudden she agreed. I don’t buy it. There’s no way Ravus could have simply convinced her it was a great idea to run away if she refused for years before.” Prompto frowns, but doesn’t interrupt you as he tries to assemble the puzzle on his side. “She says I should go where I want, but I feel it’s not her honest thought. She’s closing up on me again and I don’t know why.”

“From what I saw, she’s worried about you. So maybe you’re just overthinking?”

“No,” you answer with evidence. There is no way you are imagining things that aren’t there when it comes to the woman you shared your life with for six years. “She’s hiding something and, whatever it is, it’s bad.”

Your eyes lower over Buddy, finding comfort for yourself by letting your fingers dance across his feathers. It’s probably ridiculous to dwell over unspoken matters, but the weird sensation you get from her prevents you from stepping forward with confidence. 

Your body shakes with a snicker, shaking your head. “Sorry. We’re strangers to you, why would you care.”

Despite the interrogation being rhetoric, he doesn’t share your point of view. “Well, you don’t befriend people in one day. I do care, even if we barely know each other. I know what it’s like.” He rolls his arm over Buddy to bring his tattoo in sight. “When I learned what this is, I feared my friends would reject me. I thought they would see me as the enemy, or I don’t know. I’m so different from them, I found it unbelievable they wanted to be friends with me. I can’t even lift my own mood by telling me I’m at least unique anymore.”

“Why not?” You stop him, glancing his way and he shrugs.

“Because I’m not?”

“You look like him and them, but you’re not an exact copy.”

“Guess you’d know…” He trails, also finding mutual comfort in the act of petting the chocobo. “Was he that bad?”

You shrug, the answer changed along the years as you learned to know him under new lights. “Before I grew old enough to truly get involved in things, I guess he was kind of like the weird uncle? I didn’t know what he did. When I was a child, he never went far away whenever I was out in public, but guess now I know he was just overlooking his project. People change. And not always for the best. The nannies often made jokes about how I didn’t have a mother, but three fathers instead. Things hit the fan when I started getting rebellious and showing my disapproval in their plans. Verstael lost all interest quickly enough, but my father turned his back on me only recently.”

A sad smile spreads across Prompto’s face and you give him all your attention as you sense him wishing to open up on his side.

“I was adopted, but my parents were never home. It was pretty lonely and I remember praying to the Gods for a brother or sister so I would have had at least one friend. I was the weird overweight kid no one wanted to hang out with.”

You have no idea how the air got so emotional all of a sudden and it drains you, but you can’t cut him off to dwell over your own worries. He’s showing vulnerability by opening up and you want everything he can offer as a proof of trust. With most of your friends who vanished in their own daily routines, you understand how it is to be lonely.

“But you have friends now. You keep talking about them.”

“Yeah, well, I got Noct and kind of met with Gladio and Iggy by default. I still find it hard to believe they would want to hang out with me without Noct around.”

Lightly, you elbow him with a smile. “I want to hang out with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. We’re stuck in an airship together.”

“I’m serious, Prompto. I told you I like your style.”

His eyes light up with a thousand tiny shining stars. “Really?”

“Yes. See? You are unique. You befriend Princes and Princesses of different nations like it’s your hobby.” You have no idea how he succeeded in gaining a friendship with the Prince of Lucis, but you can speak for yourself and pitch a bit of a joke at the same time. 

An honest smile forms on his face, catching up what you mean and you fall into calm silence as you both pet Buddy who snoozes happily under all the affection. It’s weird to let your walls completely down, to be normal for once and forget about the way you speak, sit or stand. Even if Aranea lets you act like yourself, she still reminds you of home and duties, while Prompto hits differently. Most people you met went overboard in hope to impress you and gain your favors, but he sees above your title. It's refreshing since even the other men and women in the aircraft avoid lingering around you and needlessly bow whenever they meet your gaze from afar.

By closing your eyes again, you manage to find some crumbs of rest without falling asleep. Prompto doesn't move away, which is only logical as it's not like he can go around to have a chat with your people. For all you understand, he's not comfortable being here, but accepted the helping hand just as you somehow did previously. And, honestly, you prefer knowing him near you than in Loqi's reach. The man is loyal to the Empire, a quality mentioned often back home and you doubt he grew out of it by the way he acted when meeting you on the road.

You jerk to full alert when a hand presses against your shoulder and hear Aranea snickers at your reaction.

"We're landing, sleeping beauty. If you changed your mind, it's now or never."

"Did you?"

You curve back the question and notice the corners of her mouth curling down for a moment. Prompto tries to act like he doesn hear anything while cooing at Buddy, but he's not even sitting two meters away from you.

"I'll face whatever challenge you decide to take."

It's something she would say, a sentence not straying away from her nature, but the hint in her voice is off and your brows furrow. She avoids your gaze, straightening her back and observes the surroundings while you can sense the airship landing. 

"Then, let's go. I have people to look after."

After all, this is where you belong. With your people and not locked up in isolation far away even if you did enjoy the peace and quiet of not caring about daily the struggles of a nation. In the end, you could never push away your sense of duty out of your head, thus leading you to believe you shouldn't fight what feels natural. Because without the goal to protect your people, who are you?

The question stays in the void of a special space in your mind while you get up since someone will have to drive this truck and Prompto embodies a statue under Buddy. Aranea offers her hand when you step down from the box and you grab it with a smile. Whatever devours her mind will unveil itself in due time and you have to trust her despite the flags.

Unloading the aircraft takes longer than you would have thought as you discover the troops deliver supplies to Lestallum and your heart warms at the act. Even without your guidance, with the Emperor out of the portrait, they thought of others in need. Yet, you want to believe these crates aren't all for Niflheim. The truck is one of the last things being dropped from the cargo under the hard gaze of Loqi. His stare lingers over your companions, not once letting the harshness falter over your form and you don't know what bug is biting the persons around you.

A man indicates where to put the vehicle and you park it in the specific spot before stepping out to reach for your bird. Prompto hasn't moved from his sitting and you have to lure the chocobo up for him to be freed, not that he seemed displeased by the reality. You notice Aranea going around, helping out as you would have advised if she stayed by your side, but the initiative strikes oddly. 

With not enough time to dwell over it as you lead Buddy down from the vehicle, a booming voice coming from behind calls for your new friend with a tone hinted with reproaches. It makes you wince, yet you bottle it quickly as you give a glance toward Prompto. His shoulders tense for a second before relaxing and he actually takes a couple steps forward.

“Gladio!”

By the note in his voice, you guess he’s one of Prompto’s friends he mentioned previously. The stranger gets closer, towering you easily as you notice his attention lingering over your frame with a slight frown. You may need to tilt your head up to stand his gaze, but your eyes won’t lower a single second.

“You made a new friend?” He finally asks and Prompto smiles one ear to another.

“We can say that,” Prompto summarizes before landing his gaze over you. “This is Gladio.”

Aranea cuts the presentations by stepping into the conversation and the other man suddenly frowns at her like she offended his whole existence. You watch curiously as a bigger puzzle comes together, one you aren’t aware of before glancing toward Prompto who gives you a shrug. A cocky smile breaks over Gladio’s face and Aranea crosses her arms.

“What a surprise,” he says with amusement. “What do we have here?”

With one look at Aranea, you understand there is something fishy underneath all this and you can’t pinpoint what is going on. Neither can your new friend, apparently. 

“Nothing, bring back your nose in its business.”

“We heard all kinds of rumors in the Citadel, but they were hard to believe. The great Aranea failing at what she does best over a single emotion wasn’t something we were willing to believe.”

Scooting closer to the other woman, you ignore the newcomer to give her your attention in a whisper. “What’s going on?”

Gladio snickers while gesturing to both of you. “This shouldn’t have happened. She took a real clear job of erasing Niflheim’s heir. I knew you were familiar from the moment I saw you.”

“What?” You blink, slowly turning your head in Gladio’s direction as you wrap your mind around the new information despite the desire to ignore it. As much as you don’t want to believe the words of a stranger, they fill up the holes you had for a while and Aranea doesn’t object to them right away. Bringing back your gaze over her, she stands with her jaw clenched. “Tell me I’m misunderstanding things.”

She sighs, shaking her head without the tension disappearing. He pissed her, unveiling a secret she had kept under the rug for as long as you knew her and you take a step back. It’s too sudden, the memories flooding your mind with the ease in which she slipped whenever you approached her for a game of seduction and it challenges every certainty you had.

“Nea?”

She finds your gaze and holds it. “When the Emperor opened up the spot to get you a personal bodyguard, I got hired by Lucis to fill up the job. I was supposed to gain your trust and kill you.”

It hits you, shocking your core while questioning everything established between you two. Did she get wrapped up in a lie she had to play along with? For what purpose would she avoid accomplishing her duty? Love is weak when facing what you do best. It took you five years to break free from your patterns of duties and it's hard to believe someone could have put aside their own selfish goal for you.

"And she failed.”

"That wasn't necessary, man," scolds Prompto with a frown aimed toward his friend.

Lost in your own questions, Aranea glares at the newcomer before storming out of the area. There’s no point in following after her, the mystery under her reluctance of leaving Gralea out in the open. Filling up the holes of the past, words fail to slip past your lips until your arm gets tugged away from the scene and it takes a moment for you to realise Prompto leads you inside Lestallum.

“Don’t bother with him, he’s been on edge for a while.”

Despite the tentative reassurance, your heart pulls in another direction. The exposed truth brings sense to her constant desire of straying away from everyone who could put out details you missed. You can’t bring yourself to hate her for playing along some fake lines, unaware of where the act stops and you have more than one question about all this situation. Yet, you know better than chase after Aranea when she gets hit the wrong way.


End file.
